


72 Hours

by AGByrne



Category: Avengers, Captain America, MCU, Marvel
Genre: Angst, Canon-Compliant, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Girl Power, Hurt and comfort, Journalist Reader, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of self-harm, Natasha being kind, PR reader, Protective Natasha, Public Relations Reader, Reader Insert, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Wanda is a good friend, a little bit of action, hurt fic, mentions of assault, mentions of depression, reader is a writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGByrne/pseuds/AGByrne
Summary: After the loss of a promising journalism career, the Reader is involved in a late-night car accident where she is rescued by a handsome stranger. That stranger turns out to be none other than Steve Rogers, and her life will never be the same again.





	1. It’s Always Darkest Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! My name is Alicia but you can call me Ali. This is my first fanfiction, so I’m a bit nervous. I’ve been posting on fanfiction.net for a couple of weeks now so y’all get the first 6 chapters in one chunk. Please leave me comments! I love hearing from y’all even if it’s criticism. It can only make me better. 

New York City. The city of bright lights, busy streets and skyscrapers. I was so excited when I first got here. Probably broke a record for most times anyone has ever listened to Empire State of Mind while I was on the way up here. Well it was a concrete jungle alright, but my dreams weren't going to come true here, and there was definitely something I couldn't do – start a successful writing career. 3 weeks on the job and I'd been fired already. Apparently investigative journalists are only supposed to expose people who aren't related to the editor. Stupid me. Anyway it was too late to think about that.

I looked at my phone and wondered if I should call my mom. She deserved to know the truth. But she had been so proud of me, so excited about this wonderful opportunity. I didn't want to have to tell her I had failed.

I thought maybe I could go back to blogging and hope someone else would see my work and give me a chance. It wasn't likely though. Lightning doesn't strike twice, and I had used up my share of good luck. My one big break and I'd screwed it up. Messed it up. Mama never liked that word, and even though she wasn't there to be disappointed I just couldn't bear the thought of it.

That's my overactive imagination kicking in. It had always been my Achilles heel. It'll be the death of me someday.

My gaze fell on the car keys sitting on the beat-up little coffee table I bought from a thrift store. I picked them up, hopped off the couch and grabbed my jacket. Maybe a drive would clear my head. I decided to drive upstate, hoping that the sight of fields and farmland would remind me of home and lift my spirits. It couldn't hurt. It was only 5:00 in the afternoon and I had nowhere to be the next day. Or the next day. Or the next...

With that in mind I grabbed my purse and headed out.

As I locked the door I wondered how much longer I would be able to keep this apartment with no job. I scrimped and saved all through college but my savings wouldn't last long. That's just part of growing up poor with a dead-beat dad. Well, not completely a dead-beat. He tried his best… Not many people want to hire you when you've got no college degree, a drug addiction, and an almost-criminal history. I started to worry that I would end up just like him. He always said I would.

I shut my eyes tightly to block out his voice. It had always been there, in the back of my mind. It had just gotten louder in the week since I lost my job.

I turned the key and prayed the car would crank again. The engine made a sputtering noise which I was sure wasn't good, but it was running. It was an old car and it needed repairs, but it was mine. At least they couldn't take it away from me.

For hours I drove, drowning myself in my own thoughts, struggling with the demons I'd been fighting since high school. I thought they were weaker than this, but my latest failure seemed to have given them new strength. And that voice was louder. My dad's voice. The voice that almost pushed me over the edge back then. I swore I'd never get that low again and dammit I don't intend to.

The "low fuel" light was on so I pulled over at the first station I saw. I probably didn't need to waste money and gasoline on that stupid road trip, but I was just too depressed to care.

Down. Not depressed. This wasn't depression. I swore I would never let myself get depressed again. Being down is hard; depression is hell. A daily hell on earth, war raging in your mind, physical pain that makes it hard to breathe. This was not depression and I would survive this. Like I'd survived everything else.

Before I leave the gas station I turned on some music. Music increases dopamine levels by up to 9%. I was grateful Spotify was still free. I drove away and forced myself to pay attention to the upbeat song that didn't fit my mood at all, hoping some of Demi Lovato's confidence would rub off on me. Most days it cheered me up. That day it was mocking me.

By 8:00 I'd left the big city behind me. The farms were nice, but I was aching for home now. Six months ago I was aching for adventure. No one ever tells you how hard adventures really are.

9:00 passes. I should probably head home but I found a place to buy a cup of coffee instead.

10:00. The coffee wasn't helping. I hadn't eaten anything since the ramen noodles I'd had for brunch about 11 hours ago. I told myself I couldn't afford lunch, and I didn't want to stop for dinner. Oh well. Maybe I'll fall asleep and die, I thought coldly.

"No!" I told myself, my voice loud in the empty car. "I'm gonna survive this. I'm a fighter. I'll never get that low again."

Suddenly I saw something in my rear view mirror. It looked like a person but it was moving far too fast. I was certain that unless vampires actually exist, I was hallucinating. I continued to stare at it, and forgot to look at the road until it was too late.

By the time I saw the curve I was halfway off the road and all I could do was hit the breaks and scream as I plunged into a ditch. The airbag bloodied my nose and hurt my left arm, but at least I was still conscious. I struggled to hold back my sobs as I wondered how badly damaged the car was. And how badly damaged I was. I couldn't afford a wrecker or an ER bill.

I saw a figure on the road behind me, a man. He was tall and muscular. My right hand reached almost instinctively for the loaded pistol from its permanent residence in the glove compartment.

"Hey!" he called, "You ok in there?"

Maybe he wanted to help, and if I ever needed help it was right then, but he was a man, and it was a dark road, and I was terrified. There were probably lots of better ideas, but all I could think of in that moment was to pretend to be unconscious. Then maybe if he was up to no good he'd just leave.

He came up to the window and knocked on it. My heart was racing but I kept my eyes closed, my body still, and my right hand concealed from view, still gripping the gun tightly. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.

Then he did the last thing I would have expected – he pulled the door off the car with his bare hands. I only thought I was terrified before. I opened my eyes and pointed the gun at him, trying desperately to keep my hand and my voice from trembling as I cried out, "Back off!"

He raised up his hands and replied, "Woah! I'm only trying to help."

"Well I'm not a damsel in distress and I don't trust guys who can rip off car doors so you just stay away from me!" I shouted, surprised at my own ability to make a coherent sentence.

"Please Ma'am, you don't have to be afraid of me, I'm not gonna hurt you. That arm looks pretty bad. There's a place not far from here where you can get medical attention. Please just put the gun down."

Something about his voice sounded familiar, comforting even.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked, "What's to keep you from snapping my neck as soon as I put this gun down?"

"Ma'am, I promise I don't want to hurt you. I understand you're scared right now but you're gonna have to trust me anyway because you need help." As he spoke in that gentle voice, he knelt down slowly and I got a glimpse of his face.

Suddenly everything made sense. Why his voice sounded so familiar, how he could pull the door off my car, how he could run so impossibly fast…

"Captain America?" I asked softly.

He smiled and nodded.

"Thank God!" I said as I lowered my pistol. The adrenaline must have been wearing off because everything was hurting worse and my vision suddenly went black.


	2. Concussion

Muffled sounds woke me up, and I could feel a bright light through my eyelids. I opened my eyes just a slit and saw a blurred figure. The pain in my arm was a little better, but it was just persistent enough to keep me from falling asleep.

"She's regaining consciousness again," I heard someone say. I blinked a few times and the person came into focus. The light hurt a little but I wouldn't dare keep my eyes closed in a strange place. Apparently the voice I heard belonged to a tall woman in a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Patel," she said, "Can you tell me your name?"

"Y/F/N Y/L/N" I replied. "Where am I?"

She turned her head and looked across the room at someone as if asking for permission. I followed her gaze and saw Steve Rogers standing there.

"It's alright Dr." he said. Then he turned to address me, "You're in the medical bay of the Avengers facility in upstate New York, Y/N."

I blinked a few times and shook my head to try to clear it, but I quickly regretted that decision. I let out a small groan of pain.

"Please try to stay as still as possible Miss Y/L/N." Dr Patel said, "You have a nasal fracture, a zygomatic fracture, a hairline fracture in your left arm, and possibly a concussion."

"I gotta get out of here," I moaned, "Whatever the Avengers' doctor costs, I'm sure I can't afford it."

Steve smirked slightly, "Don't worry about the cost," he reassured me, "Stark can afford it."

"I'm going to ask you a few questions Y/N," Dr. Patel said, "Do you remember how the accident happened?"

"I was driving... Oh no. Did I total the car?" I asked groggily.

"Miss? I need you to focus. Can you tell me what happened?" she asked, "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Saw him running in my rear view mirror and it kinda freaked me out," I explained, motioning to the Captain with my right hand before continuing, "Didn't see the curve, ran into a ditch. He pulled the door off my car and I passed out."

"You don't remember pulling a gun on me?" Steve asked.

"I threatened to shoot you, you made me wreck my car and then ripped the door off. I think we're even," I retorted dryly.

"Y/N, can you tell me your home address?" Dr. Patel asked, ignoring my sarcastic remark.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked with a hint of hostility.

"I just need you to answer some basic questions about yourself miss. It's standard procedure when a concussion is suspected," the doctor explained.

I pouted slightly, "Can you ask something else?"

"What is 25 divided by 5?" she asked.

The question should have been an easy one but I felt as thought there were spiderwebs in my head. I squinted my eyes tightly and chewed on my bottom lip, "5?" I answered hesitantly.

Dr. Patel nodded, "I'm going to call out a set of numbers and I want you to repeat them," she said, "5, 8, 11, 14, 17, 20."

"5, 8, 11... 14... 17, 20." I repeated.

"You've been blinking your eyes a lot," she observed, "Is the light bothering you?"

"It's really bright." I replied honestly.

She nodded again, "Can you name 5 things that are red?"

I bit my lip again and replied slowly, "Apples, blood... cherries, uh... lipstick... paint... not all paint. Well not all lipstick either I guess. Roses. And those anatomically inaccurate hearts."

"That's enough Miss Y/L/N." she said, smiling slightly for the first time. She marked something down on a piece of paper. "Can you stand up for me?" she asked.

I put my legs over on one side on the examining table and sat up straighter. Steve started towards me but the doctor lifted her hand to stop him. She stood close to me but didn't help me as I stood up on wobbly legs. The room seemed to spin and this time Steve stepped forward and steadied me before Dr. Patel could stop him.

"You may sit back down now Y/N," she told me. She wrote some more on her clipboard as I situated myself on the table again. Steve stepped back a little but didn't return to his previous spot by the door.

"I can definitely diagnose a concussion now Miss Y/N. Do you live alone?" she asked.

"Yes I do."

"Any friends or relatives nearby?"

"Just moved here, no friends. Closest relatives are about 10 hours away."

"Then I'm going to have to advise you to stay here for the next few days. You have some serious injuries and you need supervision."

"Oh no, I can't," I protested, "I just need to get home. I'll be fine. This isn't my first concussion. Or broken arm or face... cheekbone break... Anyway the point is I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you're very independent Miss Y/L/N, but right now you can barely even formulate a complete sentence." Dr. Patel stated flatly, "You need supervision for the next 72 hours at least. I will come back then and if you're doing better I'll release you to go home."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as it takes you to get better Miss Y/L/N," Steve offered, "We've got plenty of room."

"I couldn't impose..." I began.

"I insist." he interjected, "Besides it's kind of my fault you wrecked in the first place."

I smiled weakly at him, "Ok. 72 hours." I said firmly, "Then I'm leaving."

Steve nodded his head in agreement.

"In that case since you probably won't be able to retain much information right now I am giving your treatment notes to Captain Rogers, and I will be back to check on you in 72 hours." Dr. Patel declared. She explained parts of it to him, then said her goodbyes and left.

"I'll see if I can find clothes you can borrow for tonight," Steve said, once the doctor was gone. "Yours are covered in blood and I'm sure you want to get out of that gown as soon as possible."

I pursed my lips and looked down at myself, "I hadn't really noticed it." I said in surprise, "But yes I would love to change. And thank you."

"No problem. It's the least I could do after making you wreck and then tearing off the door of your car." He said with a grin.

I smiled slightly and avoided his eyes, "I'm sorry for making a big deal about it earlier. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's called 'having a concussion,'" Steve said, "Also Dr. Patel gave you something for the pain before she put the cast on your arm. You probably don't remember... You were pretty out of it."

"But about the car," I protested, "I know you were just trying to help. It was my fault for pretending to be knocked out and not unlocking the doors. And I'm sorry for holding a gun on you too."

He shook his head, "It's fine, Miss Y/N, I understand. Is there anyone I need to call for you? An employer or something?"

I let out a cold little laugh, "No, nobody. And I've got nothing planned for the next three days."

"Alright then, since I'm sure you're tired, may I help you to your room?"

I nodded (slowly and carefully this time) and allowed him to help me off the table and lead me to a room. My legs felt like jello so I was grateful for his help, although I wouldn't normally accept it.

After I was settled on the bed he left to look for clothes and came back with an oversized t shirt and some sweatpants. Steve nervously offered to help me change, but I was pretty used to injuries so I assured him I could handle it. He seemed relieved. Before leaving he showed me a high-tech intercom on the wall near the bed and explained how to call him if I needed anything.

By the time he'd said goodnight and left, the medicine was really kicking in. I could barely stay awake long enough to change. My last thought as everything faded to black was, "If this isn't real it's the trippiest dream I've ever had."


	3. Breakfast with the Avengers

The next morning when I woke up my head was still pounding but I was thinking clearly. The side of my face felt like it'd been hit by a baseball bat.

"Zygomatic fracture and nasal fracture," I said aloud to myself, "Fracture of the cheekbone and a broken nose. Plus a concussion and a broken arm. Great."

I groaned as I remembered the previous night. For starters, I knew I was too tired to be driving but I didn't stop to rest. Then I wrecked my car, almost shot America's beloved superhero, passed out and had to be taken to the Avengers facility where I made an absolute fool of myself. Oh well. Can't go back and change it now. Besides, this was my third concussion, and the more concussions you have the more they affect you.

Well! I'm thinking just fine now! Did I really tell Captain America "we're even" for my pulling a gun on him because he ripped the door off my car? I guess I did. I sassed Captain America...

I laughed slightly and carefully eased out of bed. There was a bottle of medicine and a glass of water on the nightstand. Dr. Patel's instructions were there too. I read her notes and took the lowest suggested dose of the painkillers. I'd never liked taking medicine, even prescription drugs. Prescriptions didn't keep my dad from becoming an addict. That day however it didn't seem like I had much choice.

I wandered into the bathroom and found a new toothbrush in a package, toothpaste, a hairbrush, small package of hair ties, and my clothes (now washed and folded neatly) all sitting beside the sink. I smiled softly. He's conscientious as well as heroic and insanely good looking...

After cleaning up and getting dressed, I decided to take a look around. Before I left the room I noticed my purse sitting in a chair. I took a quick look inside and found my pistol in it.

As soon as I opened the door I smelled a faint scent of bacon. I followed my nose to a kitchen area, where the Captain was apparently fixing breakfast. There was a sort of island in the middle of the kitchen, and sitting on a stool at it was a very handsome dark-skinned man. He was holding a folder, and they seemed to be having an important discussion. I wasn't sure what to do, but Steve looked up and saw me standing awkwardly at the edge of the room.

"Morning Miss Y/L/N!" He said brightly, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," I reply, "Thanks for asking."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" He asked.

"Oh I wish." I said with a sigh, "But caffeine isn't a good idea since I have a concussion."

He nodded, then gestured towards the other man, "Miss Y/L/N this is my friend, Sam Wilson, better known as The Falcon. Sam, this is Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said as I extended my uninjured hand.

"Pleasure's all mine Y/N," he said as he shook my hand with a wide smile, "Cap told me what happened. His running speeds can come as a surprise at first."

Steve chuckled and looked down as if he was remembering some inside joke. I furrowed my brows as I snatched a quick glance between them, but I decided I was probably not going to understand it.

"What would you like for breakfast Miss Y/N?" Steve asked.

My eyes widened in surprise, "Oh I couldn't ask you to-"

"You didn't." Steve interjected, "I offered."

"He's a pretty good cook Y/N," Sam said, "Let him fix you something."

"It's no trouble," Steve insisted.

I chewed on my lip and tried desperately not to show how nervous I was, "I guess I'll just have whatever y'all are having," I replied.

Steve nodded, "Bacon and pancakes coming right up."

"So..." Sam said, "I take it you aren't from around here?"

"Why, how could you tell?" I asked sarcastically in an exaggerated drawl.

He laughed, "The 'y'all' kinda gave you away."

I nodded, "Northeast Mississippi."

"How long have you been in New York?" Steve asked.

"Barely a month," I replied dryly.

"What brings you all the way up here from Mississippi?" Sam asked.

"The thrill of adventure maybe? And a job at a pretty prominent newspaper."

"Congratulations!" Sam said.

"Thanks, but you may want to take back your congratulations. They... um... fired me last week." I said, then I looked down at my lap.

What is wrong with me?! Why did I tell him that? I don't want either of them to feel sorry for me. I just want to get through the 72 hours and get out of here. Sam just has that sort of face I guess, the kind that make you feel like you can confide in a person.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but I tried desperately to take control of the situation.

"Oh it's alright I'm not that upset about it." I rattled off nervously, "To be honest I was kinda unprepared for just how big New York would be. And busy, and dangerous. Oh! Not that I didn't like it, I mean, I like it a lot, it's just... You know what they say. You can take the girl out of the country..." I trailed off, realizing that he hadn't believed a word I said and I'd only made matters worse. As usual.

"Breakfast is served!" Steve said, breaking the tension and effectively changing the subject by placing plates down in front of us.

"Thank you. It... it looks delicious," I said, silently saying 'thank you' for the opportunity to eat and not have to talk.

Unfortunately the awkward silence was only broken by complimenting the food and requests to pass things for the next 10 minutes or so, until a woman's voice called out.

"Morning boys!"

I looked up to see a red-headed woman in all black athletic wear walk into the room.

Could it be...?

"Morning Natasha," Steve replied.

It is her! The infamous Black Widow! I tried desperately to act natural, but I'd already had my breakfast cooked by Captain America, and had a conversation (brief and awkward but a conversation nonetheless) with the Falcon, and now Natasha Romanoff AKA the Black Widow had just walked into the room.

She looked at me and then looked at Steve with a grin, "Finally get yourself a girlfriend Rogers?"

"No!" we both exclaimed at once, much to Natasha and Sam's amusement.

"This is Y/N. I kinda caused her car to crash yesterday and she's staying here until she's feeling a little better," Steve explained, "Y/N, this is Natasha Romanoff."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, "Well I'd love to hear that story. Nice to meet you Y/N."

I smiled nervously at her, "It's an honor to meet you, Miss Romanoff. And to be fair, Captain Rogers did rescue me from the car afterwards."

"That sounds more like him," she said as she sat down at the bar, "You boys planning on following up on that new lead today?"

"Well, we were planning on it," Steve said, "But I think we're going to stay here and do some more training."

"Any particular reason you decided to change your mind?" Natasha asked with a smirk.

"Yesterday everyone seemed off..." he mumbled, staring intently at his pancakes.

Natasha looked at me, and I desperately hoped my face wasn't turning red. I wanted to tell them not to worry about me, to go ahead with whatever they had planned. But maybe yesterday's training session was a bit off, and I certainly didn't want them to think I'm presumptuous enough to assume that the Avengers would change their plans for me. So, as usual, rather than risking saying the wrong thing, I chose to say nothing at all. I stood up, picked up my empty plate and fork, and headed to the sink.

"Y/N you don't have to wash that," Steve said as soon as he realized what I was doing.

"It's no trouble really," I protested.

"You have a broken arm," he said, "I think you can be excused just this once."

I lowered my gaze as I replied, "Thank you. And thank you again for your hospitality." I tried to retreat to my room but Steve's voice stopped me, "Miss Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Can you actually shoot that pistol of yours?"

I wasn't sure if that was an actual question or a joke. All I was sure of is that I was definitely blushing, and I felt like I should apologize again for last night. I simply replied, "Yes I can."

"If you'd like to you're welcome to do some target practice with us," He invited, "It beats sitting up in that room for 72 hours."

I hadn't gotten to do any target practice since before I left home, so despite my nervousness I jumped at the chance. "I'd like that," I said, then added quickly, "If you're sure I won't be in the way..."

"You won't be in the way," Sam reassured me.

"We'd be happy for you to join us," Steve said.

I smiled brightly. "I'll be back in 5 minutes."


	4. Training Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I've been trying to keep these chapters around 1.5k words but this one wanted to be a bit longer and there wasn't a good way to cut it in half... So here's an extra long chapter and I'm adding a bit more drama too. Hope you all enjoy! - Ali

As I walked back towards the room I was staying in, I suddenly felt frozen, as if my legs had turned to stone. There was an odd red light swirling around me, and I heard a voice from around the corner.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?"

A girl who looked a few years younger than me stepped into view. The light was coming from her hands and I couldn't imagine what it was or how the delicate movements of her fingers were controlling it.

"My name is Y/N. I was in an accident last night and Captain Rogers offered to let me stay here until Dr. Patel releases me to stay alone," I responded, "Please, just ask him."

"I don't have to," she said, as she lowered her hands and freed my legs, "You are telling the truth. I apologize."

"It's perfectly alright," I replied, "I would have done the same thing if I had... Powers..."

"My name is Wanda Maximoff," she said.

As I looked into her eyes I realized she was probably more nervous then I was, so I smiled gently in an attempt to put her at ease.

"It's nice to meet you Wanda. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get your extraordinary abilities?"

"HYDRA experimented on me," Wanda replied in a slightly cold tone.

"I'm so sorry," I replied.

"I volunteered," she said softly.

Was that guilt or defiance? I couldn't tell. "Well I'm sure you had good reasons," I said, "And if you're here that must mean that Captain America and the Avengers trust you, so I do too."

Wanda looked at me as if she was seeing deep into my soul. "I can read and control minds," she added hesitantly.

"That's really cool."

She had just the faintest hint of a smile, and her whole body seemed to relax, "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

I smiled back, "You too, Wanda."

We went in our separate directions and I wondered what had happened to her to put that haunted look in her beautiful eyes.

I shook my head gently and focused on getting my pistol. Back home I was considered an excellent shot, but I was sure I'd seem like a poor shot compared to the Avengers. Certainly I would if compared to Hawkeye, but I hadn't seen him around. I popped into the room, picked up the purse and headed out. I didn't have any extra ammunition but I was sure the Avengers had plenty of bullets of every caliber.

When I walked back out I saw a... man? His face was red; not red as in blushing red from exertion or embarrassment, but actually bright RED, with silver metal on the sides and top of his head and a glowing yellow gemstone in the center of his forehead. Despite that, his eyes looked human and seemed kind. He was dressed in a sort of tight blue bodysuit with a golden cape hanging from his shoulders.

"Hello Miss Y/L/N," he said when he saw me, "I am Vision. Captain Rogers informed me that we have a guest. I hope you are feeling better this morning?"

"I'm much better, thank you," I replied, "I'm sorry it's probably rude to ask but - are you an alien?"

"It is quite alright. I am an android, created in Dr. Cho's regeneration cradle from vibranium bonded with synthetic organic tissue."

"Wow." I said, mentally cursing my inarticulacy.

"May I escort you to the training area?" Vision asked politely.

"Yes, thank you." I replied.

As we walked I marveled at everything that had happened in the last 12 hours. So far I'd met a super-soldier from the 1940's, a man who can fly, one of the world's greatest assassins and spies, a girl who can read minds, and a polite British android made from vibranium. If I was still working for the paper-which-must-not-be-named I would have stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, but I wasn't a reporter anymore. Still, I wondered if maybe I should write a piece about my experience for the blog I would have to start. Titled something along the lines of, "72 Hours at the Avengers Facility"... Then again no one would ever believe me.

By the time we arrived the Avengers had already started training. I saw Wanda and to my astonishment she was flying through the air, with the red light I'd noticed earlier streaming from her hands. She seemed a bit uncertain and her flight was somewhat choppy, but hey, flying is flying. Steve and Sam were doing some American Ninja Warrior-esque obstacle and strength training, and Natasha was shooting at a military style target. After watching her for a few minutes I began to regret my decision to practice with them. Even when I was practicing every day she would have made me look like an amateur, and I hadn't shot a gun in over a month. She stood there calm and poised as she passed the gun back and forth between her right and left hands, striking the bullseye of the target with such accuracy that I couldn't even tell which was her dominate one. If Black Widow was this good a markswoman, Hawkeye must even be more incredible than I had imagined.

Vision must have sensed my anxiety because he leaned towards me and said with a smile, "This is not a competition Miss Y/L/N. You do not need to be intimidated."

I was surprised that an android could be so perceptive of human emotion. All I'd ever seen about androids and robots in movies had lead me to believe that they were unemotional, non-empathetic and, well, robotic. No pun intended. I smiled my thanks and hoped that my crippling social anxiety wouldn't get the better of me as I walked nervously over to Natasha.

She placed the now-empty pistol down on a small table next to an identical one. "What kind of gun do you have Y/N?" she asked.

"Glock 19," I replied.

She nodded approvingly. "Glock 26," she said, gesturing to her pistols.

"Nice," I replied. Nice? Seriously? Do better Y/N!

"How many magazines do you have with you?" she asked.

"Just one. 15 rounds. There's a bullet in the chamber too."

She raised an eyebrow slightly, "Expecting trouble?" she asked.

"Not necessarily expecting trouble," I replied carefully, "Just ready for it."

She nodded again and handed me a pair of safety glasses and tactical ear muffs as she said, "We have plenty of ammunition so just ask for a new mag when you run out."

"Thank you," I replied.

"Let's see how well you can shoot that thing Y/N," Sam called out. I turned to see that everyone except Wanda (who was standing on the ground now levitating some weights) had stopped training to stand around and watch me.

Great. Oh well, it's just like a gymnastics meet. Except this isn't gymnastics and they aren't gymnasts and they're basically celebrities and I'm out of practice and I've had a crush on one of them for years and they can probably all shoot better than I can in their sleep. So kinda like the meet when my ACL was sprained. Except 100 times worse. Fun.

I put on the protective gear and picked up my pistol, taking it off safety with it pointed at the ground. I wished my arm wasn't broken, but I knew how to shoot with one hand so I hoped it wouldn't be too much of an issue. I lifted the gun slowly and steadied my breathing as I stared through the sights. Just like I would back home. I let it all fade away, focusing only on the target. For just a few seconds nothing else mattered and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating as it slowed down to an even pace. I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as I pulled the trigger. Bang! The gun recoiled as the bullet whizzed through the air and buried itself in the target, just a few centimeters away from the X in the center of the smallest circle. I grinned slightly. I'd forgotten how good that felt. To only have to focus on a red dot and a trigger, to measure my success by such a simple standard - a hit or miss, no grey area, no "maybe" or "almost." Bang! bang! bang! I fired again and again and again, emptying the mag. I was definitely rusty, but at least the bullets were grouped pretty tightly. I laid the gun down on the table and removed the ear muffs.

"Pretty damn good for someone who's out of practice," Steve said.

"Language Cap," a man's voice called out, making Steve roll his eyes and sigh in annoyance.

I spun around to see a dark haired man in a Black Sabbath t-shirt with a cup of coffee in one hand.

So this is the infamous Tony Stark.

"Who is this lovely young woman and why is she here?" He asked, pointing at me as his gaze swept boldly over me. I'd always thought the rumors about him were exaggerated but apparently they were true.

"I'm Y/N," I said, "I was in an accident near here and Captain Rogers found me and brought me here. I hope that isn't a problem..." I trailed off nervously.

"It was partly Cap's fault," Sam quipped, "He was running too fast and distracted her."

"That is absolutely terrible," Tony said, giving me the elevator gaze one last time, "But I'm glad Cap recused you. What do you do?" he asked.

"I'm a journalist," I replied.

A look of surprise and maybe a little suspicion crossed his face, "Where do you work? What paper? Times?" he asked.

"I'm currently unemployed."

"Well that sucks," he said with a sort of pout, "I'll talk to Pep, see what I can do. Keep shooting that thing. You're pretty good. Cap? Can I have a word?"

Steve nodded and walked over towards Tony.

"I'll come too," Natasha said, then turned to me, "You're welcome to keep practicing Y/N. Sam can show you where the mags are."

They exited the training area together and I couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about me. From the look on Tony's face when I told him I was a journalist, I assumed they may have been worried that I was there undercover to get information for a story about them. Wrecking your car and breaking your arm just to get a story is pretty extreme though, even for the most hardcore investigative journalists.

Sam showed me where the magazines I needed were, and I noticed that they did indeed have an extensive selection of high quality ammunition. I'd expect nothing less from the Avengers.

Wanda joined me and practiced levitating knives and throwing (is it still called throwing if you use red magicky stuff?) them at targets. She was terrifyingly accurate, and didn't talk to me any more than was necessary. I couldn't decide if she was nervous and socially awkward, or hurt and bitter, but for whatever reasons she seemed closed off and intensely focused on her training. I tried not to think about her much, since she could read my mind and I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Sam, who was flying through obstacles and Vision, who was using the yellow stone on his head (which seemed to emit a sort of laser beam) to cut large blocks of concrete, stopped every now and then to call out encouragement.

After emptying two more magazines, I noticed my aim was getting sloppier so I decided to go back to my room. I would have loved to stay longer but given my concussed state I chose to use discretion. I thanked the remaining Avengers for their help and for letting me train with them and shyly complimented each of them on their incredible talents. Wanda smiled softly when I spoke to her, and I noticed a sadness in her eyes that made me determine to try to befriend her as much as possible within my 72 hour stay.

I was actually in a pretty good mood as I walked back to the room, until I overheard a conversation about me.

"She could me a damned spy for all you know and you just pick her up and bring her here?"

"She was bleeding and unconscious on the side of the road, Tony, what the hell was I supposed to do, leave her there?"

"I hate to say it Rogers but I have to agree with Stark on this one. We don't know anything about her and she's awfully good with a gun."

"Exactly! Cap, did you even think to ask her why she was on that road in the first place?"

"The girl was unconscious, Tony. What, do you think she totaled her car and broke her arm and nose just so I'd pick her up and bring her here?"

"Maybe, I don't know. It's not 1945 anymore!"

"I'm painfully aware of that. If it was 1945 we wouldn't be standing around here arguing over whether or not it was right to save a young girl from a car crash."

"Boys! It's not going to do us any good to stand around arguing. No one's saying it was wrong to help her, Rogers. We just need to know a little more about her if she's going to stay here for the next two days. She said she worked at a paper right?" There was a pause in which I assumed Steve nodded. "So we ask her the name of the paper. That's easy to check out. Tony can run a background check on her. If she is a spy we'll deal with it."

After that the conversation dropped to a lower tone, and I had no desire to hang around and listen any longer. It was worse than I had imagined. They didn't think I was trying to get a scoop for a tabloid, they thought I was a spy! I headed up to the room and waited for the inevitable interrogation. I didn't have a criminal history, but there were questions about my past that I didn't like to answer. Oh well. Leaving would have only made them more suspicious, and my car was totaled, which meant that even if I didn't have a pounding headache, I'm wasn't going anywhere any time soon.


	5. Inquiries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the last chapter was extra long, this one's a bit shorter than usual. I also threw in a little Easter Egg for y'all. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fanfic and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Ali

Sure enough, within half an hour there was a knock on my door. That surprised me.

I'm a suspected spy in a room they provided inside their top secret facility and they bother to knock on the door? Must be Steve.

"Come in!" I called.

He poked his head through the door and smiled almost nervously, "Hi Y/N, I need to ask you a few questions," he said.

"Alright," I replied, "Please sit down."

He came in and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed where I was sitting cross legged.

"I'm sorry to have to do this but we've got to be careful," he said apologetically as he sat down.

I nodded, "I completely understand."

"Do you mind telling me why you were driving so close to the facility last night?"

"I've had a rough week and I needed to clear my head. I didn't and still don't even know where exactly I am. I just started driving upstate to see something that reminded me of back home."

"I know this is probably a sensitive issue, but why were you fired from the paper?"

"I was an investigative journalist. I started digging into some reports of people being forcibly evicted from a tenement building and at first I thought it was just a human interest story, but I stumbled on some things that made me think there was more to it. Turns out there were some payoffs and the paper trail lead back to my editor's cousin. As soon as he found out, he had me fired under false pretenses. I tried to find evidence that I was on the right track but they had covered it all up very thoroughly. Last I heard it got picked up by a couple of lawyers in Hell's Kitchen."

"Wow," He said. He seemed surprised and maybe a bit impressed, "Before that you lived in Pontotoc, Mississippi, right?"

I nodded, "My family lives there. After college I moved back for a few months until I got the job up here."

"Were you unemployed then?"

"No, I worked for a small paper in the area and I wrote a blog. I also taught some tumbling classes."

"Can you tell me where you learned to shoot a pistol? It's not exactly a common skill for a journalist."

"Well maybe not here but it's pretty common in the south," I said with a tiny hint of hostility. I swallowed hard and looked down at my uninjured hand, which I twisted nervously in my lap. "I had a uh... traumatic experience my first year of college. It made me need to feel safe so I bought a gun and took some self defense classes. I don't like talking about it but if you need more details I can refer you to the police report."

"I'll take your word for it," he said softly.

After a moment of silence he continued, "Would you be willing to sign an NDA? I hate to ask but Tony's insisting."

"Not at all," I say.

He stood up and put the chair back, but he stopped before he leaving, "Can I ask a personal question?"

I nodded.

"Why New York?"

"My life hasn't always been easy... I guess I just wanted to run as far away as I could. Besides I felt like this was my one shot at really making it as a journalist. People like me don't get many chances like that."

"What are you gonna do now?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I said honestly, "I don't really want to go home but I know I can't stay here without a job." I hated to show emotion in front of people, but I'd already been through so much that month... I guess I'd just reached my breaking point.

Steve came back and sat down beside me. "You know we have plenty of room here. You're welcome to stay until you get back on your feet," he said softly.

I gave a short cynical laugh, "What, just hang out here with the Avengers? Eat pancakes and target practice and, I don't know, have movie nights? Y'all don't even trust me enough to let me leave without signing an NDA."

"Hey that's just Tony. He's a little paranoid," Steve retorted.

"My point is - I'm not a superhero. I've got no training, no powers, nothing. I don't belong here and I should have never agreed to stay in the first place. Not even for 72 hours."

"Y/N you were in no condition to leave. And I'm not asking you to be an Avenger or stay here forever. I'm just offering to help you get back on your feet."

"I don't take charity," I murmur.

Steve laughed, "You remind me of myself when I was younger. Too damned stubborn for my own good. Well, I didn't want help either, but I had a friend who just wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't know where I'd be without him. Just give me a chance to help you."

I looked up at him out of the corner of my eye, "How do you think Mr. Stark would feel about you helping a suspected spy?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in surprise as he asked, "Just how much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"Well I'm sorry you had to hear any of it."

Seriously? I eavesdropped on a conversation and he's apologizing for what I heard?

"Then you probably know Tony's running a background check on you right now. Is there anything he's gonna find that I need to know about?"

I shook my head, but I shrank smaller on the bed. I'd always been ashamed of my family history, and I hated seeing the pity in people's eyes after they found out about the attack. I'd tried to only tell him part of that story. Now they'd all know. They'd see me as damaged.

"Hey, Y/N," he said gently.

I looked up into his beautiful blue eyes as he continued, "It's gonna be alright. We'll come up with something."

I didn't know what to say so I just nodded. He smiled kindly at me before getting up and leaving the room.

Once he was gone I curled up in a ball and cried. I felt helpless. I didn't like feeling helpless. I was stuck there for 72 hours, in a place where most women would give anything to spend 15 minutes. Maybe this would have been an enjoyable experience if I had had a choice. But I hadn't. I'd gotten in a wreck and knocked myself out, then woken up here, with no way of leaving. Now they were suspicious of me and had to dig into a past I'd very much like to forget. This was nothing but pain and embarrassment. I tried hard to focus on the positives of the situation but my mind kept wandering back to the negatives, like it always did, until I fell into a restless sleep.


	6. A Once-In-A-Lifetime Offer

My face was hurting pretty badly when I woke up because, of course, I'd rolled over onto the hurt side while I was asleep. Great! My nose wasn't much better. I silently gave thanks that it wasn't allergy season. I didn't need that on top of everything else.

For once in my life I'd like to wake up and not groan in embarrassment for whatever happened the day or night before. Now that I remembered my current predicament, I was starting to wish I'd stayed asleep. I leaned up to look at the clock, only to discover that it was nearly 5:00. I'd missed lunch completely and gone on to sleep most of the day away. I guessed maybe that was because of the pain killers. I laid on my back and closed my eyes.

"Miss Y/N," Vision's voice broke softly into my thoughts.

I shrieked and sat up quickly, my back stiff and my eyes open wide, "How'd you get in here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from squeaking.

"I phased through the wall..." he explained in a surprised tone, "I apologize for startling you."

"It-it's fine." I stammered, "I just didn't know you could do that."

"Captain Rogers wanted me to see if you were awake yet. He and Mr. Stark would like to speak to you in the meeting area. You saw it this morning during breakfast no doubt?"

"Yes I know where it is." I sighed and closed my eyes. "Alright," I said ruefully, "I'll be down in about 5 minutes. Thank you."

Vision nodded and phased back through the wall. I couldn't decide what was more startling - having him appear out of nowhere or actually watching him leave. He just... whooshed through the walls like a ghost or something.

I hastily fixed my hair and smoothed my clothes, now wrinkled from sleeping in them. I didn't know what they wanted to talk to me about, but I had a sinking feeling that it wasn't good. If they wanted to kill me, they could have just done it while I was asleep. So this was either an interrogation (with a little torture thrown in no doubt) or a long lecture on privacy filled with threats and paperwork, or they were going to use some sort of sciency device to wipe my mind or something...

They say a journey always feels like it takes longer when you aren't looking forward to the destination, and that's especially true in the case of over thinkers like me. The walk to breakfast this morning had seemed pretty long, the walk to the training area seemed relatively short, but this walk? This was the 500 mile walk of shame. It seemed like I invented about three horrible possible scenarios for every step I took.

By the time I got to the room I was terrified. I forced myself to keep my chin up, my posture erect, and my pace steady. I let the rhythm of my shoes on the floor calm me. Fake it till you make it. I entered to find them waiting for me and I took a deep breath before saying, "Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers? Mr. Vision said y'all wanted to speak to me?"

"She is so southern," Tony said, "Mr., Captain, y'all, you're killing me. You're so polite. Just call him Vision. This is Cap or Capsicle, and I'm... you know what Mr. Stark still works. Call me that. I like it. Please sit down," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Set a spell," he added, in a horrifically inaccurate southern drawl.

I was slightly confused but certainly no less nervous. I sat in the proffered chair and looked quizzically from Tony to Steve.

"We'll get right to the point," Steve said, "We know you lost your job at a paper recently, and that you didn't deserve to. We also researched you and your writing. I have to say, you are a very talented writer."

"Thank you," I said nervously. I couldn't understand how this was relevant but I was grateful for the compliment anyway.

"You're welcome," Steve said, "Now - since S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed and the Avengers are now an independent agency we're going to need a Public Relations specialist. We've interviewed a few candidates but no one really seemed to click. We need someone who's intelligent, a hard worker, someone who won't get too star-struck by working with powered-individuals and won't be afraid of our abilities, and someone who can defend themselves in case they are targeted. You meet the criteria, so we'd like to offer you the job."

That shocked me. Not a single one of my scenarios had involved them offering me a job. Offering to let me live if I'm willing to spend my life in a tiny cell at the North Pole maybe, but not a job.

"What? You want to hire me?" I asked incredulously.

"No, we just called you in here to pretend to offer you a job before we murder you." Tony said sarcastically, "Yes, we want to hire you."

I narrowed my eyes slightly as I looked closely at their faces. This was Steve's doing. It had to be. He felt sorry for me after that childish display of emotion earlier this afternoon and now he was trying to help me out. Somehow he'd talked Tony into going along with it. All because I had to be a wimp. Dear Lord I hate head injuries!

"I told you I didn't want charity," I said in a low tone.

"This isn't charity, Y/N," Steve said, "We need someone for the job and you're well qualified."

"Believe me it's not a token position," Tony said, "The press has had a field day with all the files Romanoff released to the public in 2014 and things have only gotten worse since Sokovia. And if you can't do the job I can always fire you."

I smiled slightly at that, "So y'all don't think I'm a spy anymore?"

"Tony looked into your background very thoroughly. No connections to Hydra, or any other government agency. And you're not the criminal type," Steve said, "You are, however, a talented writer and a very strong, brave young woman. Besides being an excellent markswoman."

At that I blushed slightly despite myself. "You know I don't have any experience with P.R. work," I warned, "I studied to be an investigative journalist."

"Well Cap thinks you can handle it so I'll just say it was all his idea if you screw up," Tony teased. "Besides," he added, "You have a 138 I.Q. and graduated summa cum laude. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Well I'll certainly try my best - if you're sure I'm actually needed?"

"We're very sure," Steve said, smiling.

"I'll have Pepper get a contract ready for you to sign by tomorrow," Tony said, "Steve can take you to Stark Tower so you can discuss money, hours, dental plan, whatever."

"Oh I really don't care about all that," I said with a laugh, "Whatever y'all pay me will be a raise since I currently have no job at all."

"Alright cool. I'll tell Pepper not to offer you much," Tony said with a wink, "I gotta get back home in time for date night so I'll see 'y'all' day after tomorrow."

I told him goodbye, and thanked them both. I think Tony said a few more things to Steve, but everything else was a bit of a daze. Public Relations Specialist certainly wasn't my dream job, but after working for the Avengers and technological genius Tony Stark I was sure I could easily get a job at nearly any paper I wanted. Or maybe I could just stay with the Avengers. The pay would definitely be good and hey, I might actually enjoy that line of work. Maybe destiny caused me to wreck my car that night... No, that couldn't be it. I didn't believe in destiny or fate. But the money would be good. And of course my decision to take the job had absolutely nothing to do with the handsome blond super soldier standing there in the hallway.


	7. A New Beginning

The next day was very eventful, so I'll just give a brief summary of the most important parts.

To start the day off, I had breakfast with the Avengers again. This time everyone was in more of a hurry, since Mr. Wilson was leaving on some important business, and Ms. Romanoff was going to visit Hawkeye, who I learned had a family, including a new baby named Nathaniel Pietro Barton. To my surprise the formidable Black Widow was acting like an excited aunt, a cooler, slightly more intimidating version of course, but an aunt nonetheless. Wanda and Vision didn't make an appearance at all. It was explained to me that Vision didn't have to eat, but no one mentioned Wanda. I assumed it wasn't my place to ask questions yet so I kept quiet.

After breakfast I was picked up by an actual helicopter, and I couldn't decide if I thought that was exciting or ridiculous. I was sure that I regretted the lack of a fancy outfit. Natasha let me borrow some clothes, and although usually I'd love the tough biker-chick vibe, I felt like getting picked up in a private helicopter deserved something along the lines of a suit or at least a formal shirt and pencil skirt. Steve, who informed me at the last minute that he would be joining me, was wearing everyday clothing; a fitted (nicely, sexily fitted) white t-shirt and jeans with a brown leather jacket. Since he didn't feel the need to dress up I assumed I'd be alright as well. And since I was going to be working for the Avengers I figured get another chance to ride in an helicopter wearing a well-cut suit, black pumps, and glasses with my hair in a French knot. It was a bit of an odd fantasy of mine...

When I arrived, I had the pleasure to meet the one and only Pepper Potts, the most influential businesswoman in the country, and an inspiration to girls around the world. For the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company she's surprisingly down to earth. She was gracious and respectful to me even though I was kind of a failure compared to her. Kind of a failure period actually... After watching her and talking to her for a while I decided that I too wanted to be Pepper Potts when I grew up.

Stark Tower was incredible. Cutting edge technology was everywhere, and it truly felt like stepping into the future. It was such a change from the small town where I'd grown up. I had to try very hard not to stare at things.

We didn't have to negotiate my contract much at all. There was a probation period, but after that I'd become the Avengers official P.R. specialist. The pay was generous, the vacation time ample, the rules, though strict, were reasonable, and there was even a large signing bonus, so I could get a new car and move my belongings. To my surprise, I was actually expected to live on-site at the Avengers facility. I felt strange about living amongst such incredible heroes, like a grasshopper among giants, but Pepper informed me, confidentiality, that I was also on-site to help Wanda, Steve, and Vision adjust to their new lives as celebrities. Wanda had just moved to America, Steve came from the 1940's, and poor Vision was only a few months old. Vision had access to all of the knowledge of the internet, but having an actual person to help him learn people skills was far better than just expecting him to figure it out on his own. I doubted Steve needed much help from me, considering how close he and Mr. Wilson were, but you never know. And Wanda... I wanted to be able to help her, to befriend her and find out what tragedy had made her so withdrawn, but I was unsure of how to go about it.

Despite the fact that the agreement was already mostly satisfactory, there were many forms that needed to be read and signed, and some of the legal terms in my contracts still had to be explained. Also I was technically an employee of Stark Technologies, which meant I had to take a mandatory polygraph. That turned out to be excitingly sci-fi. The thought of a lie detector had always frightened me a little, but the test was mostly just to ensure I had no connections to Hydra. Which didn't bother me at all. I was more than happy to declare that I would rather die than join a Nazi group.

After all of that was over, Mr. Stark let Steve borrow a car to drive me by and pick up some things from my apartment. I had been wearing hospital gowns, the same outfit washed multiple times, and borrowed clothes since the accident, and it was a relief to at least have a suitcase to live out of until I could move in. I quickly selected toiletries and a small range of clothes. I decided I'd need professional attire, some athletic wear, one nice dress, a few band tees and shorts, and of course, my most comfortable pajamas. How I'd missed those pajamas! I found a t shirt I'd almost forgotten I had - a black one with a large Captain America shield emblazoned on the front. I balled it up nervously and stuffed it in the very back of my shirt drawer, making a mental note to burn it later.

I was a little bit ashamed of Steve having to see the inside of my dingy apartment and sit on my awful second-hand couch, but I comforted myself with the reminder that he had grown up as a poor boy in 1930's Brooklyn, and also, he really wasn't the judgmental type. Seeing someone else in my living room for the first time, I realized that it was about as homey as a cactus. I had no plants, no pets, no pictures, barely anything more than the necessities. This apartment was nothing but a place to eat and sleep. And considering the rent I paid I should have enjoyed it a lot more.

With my suitcase in hand and the contents of my refrigerator disposed of, we left my apartment and I locked the door behind us. I felt so different than I had the last time I stood there. Hope. I had hope, and hope makes all the difference in the world.

The drive back was mostly quiet. From Stark Tower we got back on the helicopter and flew back to the Avengers facility. I decided I wouldn't call it home yet. Home means permanence, or at least long-term planning. I refused to set down roots anywhere until I had reason to believe that I would get to stay.

The longest conversation I had with Steve was about music. He told me part of a story about how Mr. Wilson had suggested the Troubleman soundtrack for him when they first met, and that he had played it for him while he was unconscious in a hospital. He also explained why Sam had been teasing him about his running speeds, and what it meant if I ever heard either of them say, "On your left." Other than that we didn't talk much. I wasn't really in the mood for aimless chatting and I didn't want to whine or complain any more.

When we got back I had my first chance to start getting to know Wanda. The first thing I did when we arrived was head to the room and change into some of my own clothes. I was just folding up Natasha's things and wondering where the laundry room was when I heard a knock at the door.

"Y/N?" Wanda called.

I opened it to see her standing there, looking like she was considering whether or not to bolt.

"Can I help you?" I said with a smile.

"Steve said you are going to work for the Avengers?" She said. It wasn't really a question. She already knew the answer. I didn't know what she wanted and I doubted she even knew herself. All I knew was that I recognized the pain in her eyes, that haunting sadness hidden behind a fortress of courage and hard work. Whatever her reasoning, she was reaching out, and I was going to do my level best to make her feel accepted.

"That's right!" I replied brightly, "They said they needed a P.R. girl. Public relations. I'll help them deal with the press, writing out statements, arranging interviews, that sort of thing." I decided complete transparency was probably best when the person you're talking to can read your mind so I added, "To tell you the truth I have no idea what to do. They said they think I can handle it but I'm worried that I can't. All I know is I'll be doing a lot of googling over the next few days."

That earned me a half-smile.

"I could actually use your help Wanda. If you don't mind that is. This place is massive, and I don't know where anything is, or what the rules are, or, well, anything at all really. I'm sure Captain Rogers will be willing to give me a tour of the place but I'd really appreciate a girl's perspective."

She hesitated a minute, then she seemed to make up her mind and said, "I would be happy to help you."

"Great!" I reply, "Maybe you could start by showing me where the laundry room is?"

She nodded and I followed her out the door. And for the first time in a long time I truly hoped that I would be able to make a friend.


	8. Day 1

The next morning when I awoke I was filled with a tingling sensation. Someone once told me the only difference between excitement and fear is your perspective, so I tried my very best to think of it as excitement. I got up, showered, then fixed my hair and dressed the way I thought a "Very Professional Public Relations Specialist" should. When I got down to the kitchen I was alone. I went over to the cabinet I thought I remembered contained cereal bowls, and I found them on my second attempt. I had better luck with the cereal, which I found in the first cabinet I tried. Finding the milk was easy. I mean, where could you put milk besides the refrigerator? Making breakfast with one hand wasn't easy, but I'd done it before so I managed pretty well.

It was early, so I assumed that I had gotten up before everyone else until Steve walked into the room. He had clearly been exercising, running I guessed, but the color in his face wasn't from exertion.

"Look at this hogwash!" He said, plopping a tabloid on the table.

"Good morning to you too," I smirked.

"Sorry," He said, "Good morning."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise as I read the headline, "The Avengers' Twisted World." Opening it to the article in question, I began reading it and my lips twitched slightly as I tried not to laugh at the ridiculously exaggerated tales of debauchery. "Why Captain," I tease, "I had no idea I was going to be working in such a den of sin."

"Why would anyone in their right minds want to buy such insufferable twaddle?" He asked in exasperation.

"Well you bought it," I pointed out.

"How else could you read it?"

"I could have just googled it," I replied.

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Internet..." he muttered under his breath, "I knew that. I just forget sometimes."

"It's alright, this saves me the trouble. And I can burn it when I finish if you'd like. Anyway," I remark as I scan over it once more, "This is tame compared to fan fiction."

His brows furrowed as he asked, "What's fan fiction?"

I laughed, "Believe me, you don't want to know. If you think this is scandalizing, I'd hate to see you after reading Stony smut."

He looked at me with a puzzled expression and I chuckled slightly.

"Anyway this is what you hired me for, so if you want me to I'll start working on it." I hesitated for a moment before adding, "But this really isn't that big of a deal you know."

He looked incredulously at me, "What do you mean not that big of a deal?"

I shrugged, "Well first of all, tabloids have been known to exaggerate, and secondly, not very many people would be too upset by this even if it were true."

"How can they not be upset? We're the Avengers, we're supposed to held to a higher standard."

"Actually for a lot of people, their first introduction to superheroes was when Mr. Stark announced that he was Iron Man in '08, since you were sometimes believed to be a wartime myth. Mr. Stark's made headlines with stories like this all my life, and they weren't all exaggerated. Also, people like flawed heroes now, relatable people."

"That's relatable?" He asked in shock.

"Well no, but still... My point is, I probably won't be able to do very much about this. I understand that you don't want to read lies about yourself and your friends, but it's just part of being a celebrity in the 21st century. People like reading stuff like this, even if they don't believe it's true. They like scandal and drama."

He shook his head in dismay.

"I can try to get you some good press though," I offered, "Maybe arrange for you to do an interview or something? I'm guessing you probably have the least dirt on you out of all the Avengers, except maybe Mr. Vision. Maybe getting ahead of all the rumors will help things?"

"I trust you," He said simply.

I was a bit taken aback, but I just smiled and answered, "Thank you. I'll try not to let you down."

He nodded towards my now-empty cereal bowl and said, "Since you're finished I'd be happy to show you your office now."

"I get an office?" I asked excitedly as I took it to the sink.

He laughed, "Did you think we were going to make you live and work in that room? Of course you get an office. A suite actually."

I followed him excitedly to the place I would be spending most of my time for the foreseeable future. He opened the door and I couldn't help but "ooh" slightly. The door opened into the office, which was furnished with an extremely nice desk and chair, two additional chairs in front of it, a couch and coffee table to the side of the room, several plants, and cutting-edge Stark tech on the desk, including something which resembled a smartphone, a holographic computer-type device, and a tablet. The lights were off, but the room was illuminated by a large window that ran along the entire wall.

"Well this beats the hell out of that tiny cubicle I was in," I said with a short laugh.

"I'm sorry we couldn't move you in as soon as you signed on," he said. "Stark just sent up all of this tech this morning."

"Oh don't apologize. I wasn't even expecting this at all," I said as I lightly ran my fingers across the edge of the desk. I hesitated for a moment and then I turned to him with a soft smile, "Thank you Captain."

"This is all Tony and Pepper," he said, "And please, call me Steve.

"Alright... Steve," I tested his name carefully and found that I liked the way it sounded. "I'm not just talking about the suite," I continued, "You saved my life, then you helped me get this job, and you've been so kind to me even though my head's been all wacky and I've been rude and over-emotional... I just hope I can live up to the faith y'all have in me."

I felt incredibly awkward, but Steve just half-smiled and scratched the back of his head. "I'm sure you will. You seem like a very special girl Miss Y/N Y/L/N."

I let out a nervous laugh and bit my bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep from grinning like an idiot. Something about Steve's demeanor just made everyone feel special, and I was no exception. My face was warm and I knew I'd feel that happy little aura around me for the rest of the day. Thankfully I didn't have to say much for the rest of the tour. The little suite was nicer than my old apartment, and I was shocked that this was the PR person's accommodations. I suppose I had expected to stay in the little room by the med bay forever. Instead I had a kitchenette, a bathroom with a tub and shower, a bedroom, an office, and a small sitting area. I was nearly itching to get my hands on the Stark Tech, so Steve showed me how to activate it. His knowledge of these cutting-edge devices surprised me a bit, but considering how long he had been working with Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. I suppose it shouldn't have. Before he left he explained that he was going to be gone with Sam on a mission for the next few days, but that I could go to Wanda or Vision or any of the ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who lived there if I needed anything. As he was walking out the door he stopped and looked back at me, "Y/N?"

"Yes, Steve?"

"Movie nights are on Thursday," he said. Then with a wink and a grin, he walked away.


	9. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for uploading so late. My dog has been sick and this weekend has been incredibly stressful. Hope you all enjoy despite my horrible timing. 

For a few hours I worked on getting my new tech customized. Stark Tech was great on security, which meant I had to calibrate the facial recognition and the voice command systems as well. After that I moved everything from my old room into the suite.

By then it was lunchtime so I headed down to the dining area. When I arrived I found Wanda sitting at the table with her back to me, picking at a bowl of food and staring at a photograph. I couldn't make out many details, but I was sure it was a man.

"Boyfriend?" I asked.

Wanda jumped and turned to face me, and to my surprise she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, "You startled me!" she said, "He's not my boyfriend. He was my brother. Pietro."

"Was?" I asked softly.

"He died a few months ago," she explained, "Fighting Ultron."

"I'm so sorry!" I said, as I eased into a chair across from her, "Would it help to talk about it? Sometimes it's easier to talk to a complete stranger."

She hesitated for a minute before shaking her head slightly.

"You sure?" I asked, "I've got nothing to do until my doctor's appointment and I happen to be a very good listener."

She smiled a soft, almost nostalgic smile, "Maybe I can talk a little..."

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my chin on my good hand, elbow propped on the table.

"Pietro was..." she seemed like she was searching for the right words, then she gave a short laugh and continued, "We were twins, but he always teased me about the fact that he was 12 minutes older than I was."

I smiled, and with that the dam seemed to burst.

"He took care of me like an older brother after our parents were killed. Well, we took care of each other. Before the accident we were always close but afterwards... All we had was each other. Our parents were killed in a bombing. We grew up in Sokovia. It was always troubled but... We had stayed pretty safe until that night. There was... an explosion, and... and my parents fell through a hole in the floor. Pietro pulled me under a bed just before the second missile hit. It didn't detonate. I don't know why. It had Tony Stark's name written on the side. We laid there for two days, waiting to be rescued and staring at that name, hoping the rescue workers didn't set it off. We were ten years old and we had to lie there, too scared to move, for what felt like forever, waiting to die. We hated Stark for that. For years I could think of nothing but making him pay for what he had done. And then when Hydra asked for volunteers... Pietro wasn't sure. We both knew Hydra was not trustworthy but they promised to give us powers. To make us something more than human. And all I could think about was what a difference we could make with superpowers. We could save people like us, we could avenge our parents' death... We would never have to go hungry or cold again. We talked it over and we decided we would do it - but together or not at all. The testing was brutal and we watched every other subject die, all of them screaming in pain. We had to stay strong, and fight to survive. Every time I felt like giving up, I would look at Pietro... We gave each other the strength to fight. When it was over and they found out we had powers they put us in glass cages... I thought we would go insane, but at least we could see each other through the glass. Everything after that happened so fast. The Avengers attacked Hydra and we fought them, and then Strucker died and Ultron recruited us and it took me too long to realize what he was really trying to do... Sometimes I think... Maybe I didn't care enough to find out what his goal was. I was so angry, so focused on making Tony Stark pay for my parents death that I almost helped destroy the world. I can't help but wonder if I had figured out his plan sooner... Maybe Pietro would not have died. Maybe, I killed my own brother."

As soon as she said that she started to cry. I hadn't known her very long and it was an awkward situation but all I could think of was comforting her, so I put an arm around her and hugged her gently.

"Don't say that Wanda," I said, "Just because you have superpowers doesn't mean you're responsible for everything that goes on around you. You're not omniscient right?" She shook her head. "Then you can't blame yourself," I continued, "I know what it feels like to lose someone close to you. I mean, not as close as a twin but still... Losing someone you love hurts like hell, but you can't stop living. You have to think, 'What would Pietro want me to do?' Would he want you to blame yourself? No. Of course he wouldn't. I know you've been through a lot, but now you can make a difference like you've always wanted to. You have powers and you're not under the command of a corrupt organization or a genocidal Android. You're free. Free to make a difference and save people. Make Pietro proud. You've been through a crucible, and only you get to decide if you're going to come out stronger or not. You can take this pain and hold on to it forever, or you can let it go and and move on. Now is when you get to decide if you're going to be a survivor or a winner.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and half smiled, "How do you know how to give a motivational speech like that?"

I laughed dryly, "Lots of time in therapy. It helped me so... I thought it might help you."

"Well I mean it didn't magically fix anything," she said, "But you're right, and I do feel a little bit better after talking about it."

I nodded, "That's good. And since I'll be here for a while, why don't you talk to me about him more often? It doesn't have to be cathartic or sad or deep, just... Think of one memory, one story from your childhood or something, and every day around this time I'll come eat lunch with you and you can tell me about it."

"You sure that won't be an imposition?" She asked.

I shrugged, "To be completely honest it'll be good for me too. I feel a little awkward here. I'm the only person with no powers, no training, no special skill set, no talent, nothing important. I'm basically useless. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to."

She smiled, "Ok. We can try."

"Awesome," I said, hopping up from my chair, "Now I'm going to go see if I can find some lunch in the fridge before I have to see Dr. Patel."


	10. ————

Well it finally happenened... I hit a writer’s block because I am so exhausted from work and I have literally nothing to post. I am so sorry. From now on I will be uploading on Sunday’s only in the hopes that less quantity will mean better quality. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me. <3 Ali


	11. New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y’all, I am finally uploading the next chapter! I’m sorry it’s a day late though... My dog has been sick and a friend had a crisis and I didn’t get to sit down and finish this until 1:00 this morning. I have this week off work so I’ll try to get some major writing done and establish a little stockpile in case I get in a tight spot like this again. I’m so sorry it took so long and thank you all for your patience! - Ali

To my relief, Dr. Patel said I seemed to be recovering well. She released me to do any necessary brainwork, and said I should be able to resume normal activities in a few days, as long as I didn’t have any headaches. My arm and facial bones would take a bit longer to heal, but with the advanced medical resources at the Avengers’ disposal, my recovery time was cut nearly in half.

Typing with one hand wasn’t exactly fun, but I didn’t complain. Considering how bad the accident had been, I was lucky to be recovering at all. I had come so close to death, yet it didn’t really sink in until I saw the car, almost a week after the wreck. I had to go to the junk yard and give them permission to compact it, and remove any personal belongings. The front end was crushed in a U-shape where the metal had curved around the tree. The window was cracked like an eggshell, barely holding in place at all. The inflated air bag, seatbelt, and steering wheel were all covered in blood - my blood. The door was completely gone, of course, and with it the spare change I usually kept in the little compartment by the door-handle. I removed my first air kit and emergency supplies from the glove compartment, along with the spare magazine of ammunition I’d kept there. I closed my eyes and the memory flashed before me, bringing with it a flood of emotions - all of the fear and helplessness I had felt in those few seconds when I looked up and realized I was careening towards a tree... I unconsciously stroked my cast and shuddered. To have come so close to dying and survived, and then have my entire life changed for the better within the 72 hours that followed... it almost felt miraculous. But I didn’t spend too much time thinking about that. I simply took care of the necessary arrangements and went back to work.

Since I had no coworkers and my office was just a few steps away from my bedroom, it was fairly easy to settle into a routine. To make sure that I didn’t get distracted, I worked out a meticulous schedule. I also wrote down a list of things to do, buy, skills to master, and research to complete. Some of the tasks I assigned myself were simple, and straightforward, like getting my passport, buying a new car, etc., but the rest were more complicated, long-term goals like learning martial arts, holding my first press conference, setting up some social media platforms, learning how each of the Avengers’ powers worked, and interviewing them all for a short biography.

Since I was new to the world of crime-fighting and intelligence, Steve set up a meeting for me with a friend of his who was a retired S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Her name was Sharon. She had fought against Hydra agents when S.H.I.E.L.D collapsed, and transferred to the CIA shortly afterwards, but she had remained in contact with the Avengers through Steve, her former neighbor. She had kindly agreed to come evaluate me a bit and discuss what changes I needed to make, who I needed to reach out to (and who I needed to avoid), and everything else that goes along with working for the Avengers. I was both excited and a little nervous to meet a secret agent, and I prepared myself as much as possible. Anytime I came across a problem or found myself with a question, I wrote them down in a little notebook.

The first week went by more quickly and much easier than I had expected. Although Tony and Stark Technologies both had well maintained, very popular social media platforms, the Avengers as a group did not have any at all, and the individual Avengers either had poorly maintained accounts or none. Since Natasha, Steve, and Sam still hadn’t returned, I focused on Wanda and Vision’s personal accounts. I also looked into what shows might want to invite an Avenger as a guest, what events they should attend, and what charities they could promote.

If I said it all came easily to me, I would be lying. I was used to digging up stories people wanted hidden, spending hours researching or interviewing people, or going undercover, then tying all of the information I’d obtained together in a carefully worded exposé. This was so far out of my comfort zone. I wondered why the Avengers even hired me in the first place, as each new struggle lead to a fresh wave of self-doubt.

Having Wanda around to talk to helped me more than I could have ever imagined. I suppose I had been alone for so long I’d forgotten what it was like to have a friend. We kept our little pact, meeting for lunch every day and talking through whatever was on our minds. Wanda still trained obsessively, and I was busier than I had been since college, but we never missed our appointments. It was good for both of us to step away from the busyness of our new and exciting lives, to pretend to just be two normal girls having lunch together. Losing Pietro had been devastating to Wanda, but I was glad to see that she was starting to open up.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time I saw her smile.

It was Saturday, a week or two after I had moved in, and we were sitting in her room. We’d discussed our mutual love of music the day before, so she was teaching me how to play the guitar. Right as I was bending over and concentrating intently on a G-chord, a distinctly British voice spoke behind us.

“Good afternoon ladies.”

“Twang!” As I jumped slightly in surprise, I accidentally strummed the guitar, causing it to make a grating sound that was definitely NOT a G-chord.

“Vizh,” Wanda said gently, “You can not phase through someone’s walls.”

“But I just did...” Vision began in confusion.

“Well I didn’t mean you can’t,” she explained, “I meant you shouldn’t.”

He looked at her quizzically.

Wanda continued, “If someone is inside a room with the doors shut, that generally means they want privacy. What if I had been changing? Or having a conversation I didn’t want you to hear?”

Vision nodded slowly, “I apologize, if you two would like privacy I can leave-”

“No!” I said quickly, “You’re welcome to stay, it’s just... I think what Wanda is trying to explain is the principle of it.”

Wanda nodded in agreement, “You don’t have to leave. Just don’t phase into peoples’ rooms from now on alright?”

“I will certainly keep that in mind.” Vision said, “I was coming to inform you that Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson have returned from their mission.”

“We’ll be out in a bit,” I said, “Thanks for letting us know.”

“Thank you Vision,” Wanda added.

“You are welcome,” he said, and with that he turned and phased back out through the wall.

Wanda looked down at the floor and smiled wistfully. I saw something in her eyes that I hadn’t expected to see for a long time, and I gasped softly.

“What?” She asked.

“You like him!” I exclaimed triumphantly.

“What? Vizh? No he’s... we’re just friends,” she said, blushing a light pink, “Besides, he’s an android... How could that even work?”

“He’s an android, you’re a superhero who can move things with your mind, and aliens came down from the sky through a freaking wormhole a few years ago. It’s a brave new world, Wanda, and he makes you smile. How long has it been since you smiled like that?”

“Since before Pietro died,” she admitted softly.

“See? You have been through hell over the past few years, Wanda, don’t you think you deserve a little happiness?” I asked.

“So what am I supposed to do? Go up to Vision and say, ‘Hi, I like you, let’s go on a date?’ He doesn’t even know that it’s not ok to phase into someone’s room.”

“No... Just... Keep yourself open to the possibility. Maybe when he’s more comfortable with human social interactions you can ask him out. And I’m sure he’d say yes. You’re a smart, beautiful, strong young woman Wanda. Any man would be lucky to have you. Now c’mon, let’s go welcome back Steve and Mr. Wilson.”

From that moment forward I always knew that someday Wanda Maximoff would fall in love with Vision. Something about the two of them in a room... There was an energy and a chemistry about them that felt like some star-crossed Shakespearean destiny thing. And as cliché as this sounds, for the first time in my life I was starting to believe that maybe true love wasn’t just a fairy-tale myth. After all, my life had just gone from sad and ordinary to an incredible adventure, and it all started the moment I was rescued by my knight in star-spangled armor.


	12. The Skinny Kid From Brooklyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank y'all so much for not getting mad at me over the new update schedule. I feel like this is going to work with my schedule a little better and hopefully I can give y'all high quality to make up for the low quantity. Just as a disclaimer, I am not in PR, I've never worked in PR, and I don't know anyone who's worked in PR, so everything I know comes from Google. I love hearing from y'all so please keep the reviews coming, and I hope you enjoy! - Ali

When I saw Steve my first thought was that he looked exhausted. That surprised me. I hadn’t realized a man with superpowers like his could get tired. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his gait was slower and more deliberate, his eyes weary and sad, as if he was reliving a painful memory. Sam patted him on the shoulder encouragingly and said something which sounded like, “Don’t worry Steve, we’ll have better luck next time.” 

Steve looked up and saw me approaching, and his body language changed almost instantly. He stood up taller, stepped quicker, held his chin up, and fixed his smile back in place. As soon as we made eye contact I realized he wasn’t physically tired, but emotionally drained. Whatever the mission had been, it was personal. I wished he didn’t think that he had to be strong all of the time, wished I could tell him that I saw past his mask, wished I could make him trust me, wished I knew what to say to take the pain from his eyes... But I barely knew him. We’d only just met a few weeks ago, and years of being a fan couldn’t have prepared me for actually trying to be his friend. So I pretended to believe that everything was ok.

“Hi Y/N, how was your first two weeks?” He asked brightly.

“Stressful, but fun,” I replied honestly, “I’m learning a lot. I actually have a few ideas to discuss with you, and you too Mr. Wilson, as soon as y’all are free. How was your mission? Or is that classified?” 

“Dead end,” Steve replied, “We were following up on a lead in a cold case so it’s not exactly surprising. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. What kind of ideas were you talking about?”

“Oh there’s no rush, I’m sure you two are tired. If you want to stop by my office after you’ve rested some...?”

“I’m willing to do it now if you are,” Steve said.

“Well I’m not a super soldier so I’m going to go get some shut-eye,” Sam said, “But I will look forward to working with you tomorrow, Y/N.”

I nod, “Sounds like a plan!”

“You two have fun,” Sam called back as he headed towards his suite.

“So,” I began nervously, attempting to sound as professional as possible, “I have been doing some research, and I made a few calls, and I’ve come up with several different things we can do to help improve your public image. Not that you have a bad public image! I mean, America loves you, but after the incident in Sokovia, all enhanced individuals are under fire. I reached out to the Make-A-Wish foundation, some hospitals, veterans associations, and a few other charities. All of them are really great organizations, so you’ll be helping make a difference AND getting good publicity. Win-win. Also, you’ve been requested to film some videos for a high school fitness challenge. If you’re interested in any of those, I can give you more detail.”

“I’ve heard of the Make-A-Wish foundation but I’d still like some more information.”

“Certainly! It was started in the 1980’s, when a little boy with a terminal illness wished to be a police officer. The people in his community made it happen, and it just grew from there. Now it’s a huge organization that helps terminally ill children around the world. People donate to them, and they make sure these kids get one last wish. Some kids wish for animals, some wish for trips to places like Disney World, some kids wish to meet their heroes. I know there are probably hundreds of little boys and girls who would wish to meet Captain America. And Steve Rogers can probably understand what they’re going through better that most people.”

He looked at me quizzically.

“Because you had health issues as a child, right? I’m sorry I really don’t mean to seem stalkerish I just... I was a big fan - am a big fan... Also I did a lot of research on you in high school. I had to write a paper on whether or not you were real. A lot of people thought you were a wartime myth but... I always believed in you. I did a lot of digging into your backstory so I could do a good job. Your story turned out to be very inspiring. Anyway my point was, I know that you know what it’s like to struggle with pain and sickness as a child. I think you can give these kids strength to keep fighting to survive every day.”

He nodded slowly, staring at me with unreadable blue eyes, “Y’know, sometimes my childhood seems like it was just yesterday, and other times... Well, it feels like an eternity ago. Like I’ve been Captain America so long I’ve almost forgotten what it was like to be Steve Rogers. Most people seem to act like... I don’t know. Like the kid from Brooklyn died and all that’s left of him is a shield and a suit, and they somehow think that’s a good thing.” He paused for a minute before adding thoughtfully, “But you don’t.”

I shrugged, “Let’s just say I know that even a drastic identity change doesn’t change who you really are deep down. The kid from Brooklyn didn’t die. And you’re not worth any more or any less because you’re different now. Everything good about Captain America is Steve Rogers. Your heart is what makes you special, not the serum. Anyone else would have just become another Red Skull or worse. You became a symbol of hope and courage and freedom. Only you could have done that.”

By then I was a embarrassed and worried I’d overshared so I was grateful to have reached my office, “Here we are!” I announced. It was a completely unnecessary thing to say, but I was desperate to change the subject.

For the next two hours we talked about nothing but work, as I wrote down answers to the questions I’d compiled, sorted through the suggestions of charities and events and television shows, and started working social media platforms. I was worried that I’d make some dreadful mistake, but Steve was incredibly easy to work with, and the whole thing went by smoothly. 

When we had finished I expected him to excuse himself and leave, but instead he asked me a question, “When you said you know what it’s like to go through a change and still be the same person inside... What did you mean?”

I looked down at my lap and chewed my lip, “My uh... my childhood was rough. I always felt like one person and then when I left home... I had finally gotten away, and I tried to completely reinvent myself. I changed so much, just trying to leave behind everything that reminded me of... of what I’d left behind. I almost felt like a completely different person. Some of my family and friends didn’t understand. They wanted me to be this... this perfect girl that they’d created in their own minds and in their attempts to bring her back they never realized they were hurting me. It took me a long time to figure out that I couldn’t run from my past, and just because it wasn’t perfect didn’t mean it was shameful. But I also had to realize that so much of what I thought was me changing was just me being free to really be who I was, after years of trying to live up to impossible expectations. My family still hasn’t accepted that. I’m a bit of a black sheep,” I said with a laugh, “Going to New York to become a writer... They said it was a fool’s errand. I guess that’s one reason why I felt like such a failure when I lost my job. I have to prove them wrong and prove I could make a career here. I mean I still won’t make them happy until I’m married with 3 kids but at least if I can be successful it proves that I can reach my goals. And if I can do that then it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“Well I think you’re going to do just fine,” he said with a smile, “I think you’re special. If they can’t see it then it’s their loss.”

I blushed and smiled at his shoes. I didn’t really know how to respond to that so I just hopped out of my chair and went with the first thing that popped in my mind.

“Say,” I asked, “How would you like for me to bake some pecan pie?

Steve laughed, “Sounds great.”

“Meet me downstairs in an hour,” I said with a grin, as I slipped out the door.


	13. Good Music and Better Pie (No this isn’t about Supernatural...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to apologize for not updating this on a Sunday. I was out of town for a shower, and the past two weeks have been insane so I didn't get to start writing until sometime last night. Thank you all for your patience and for the lovely reviews. I already have a pretty good idea of what I want the next chapter to be so it should be uploaded promptly. Hope y'all enjoy!

I had put the pies in the oven and was starting to clean up the kitchen when Steve walked in. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and his hair was slightly wet, so I assumed he’d had a shower.

Why am I noticing that? I wondered in embarrassment.

Since no one else was in the kitchen, I had Led Zeppelin playing on my phone.

“Classic rock?” he asked.

I nodded. “What, did you think just because I'm Southern I have to listen to Tim McGraw or something?” I asked with a laugh as I noticed the look of surprise on his face.

“No, not really just... You don't really look like a rock chick.”

“Well, we come in different styles, shapes, and sizes, you know,” I said with a grin, as I leaned over the bar, “I grew up listening to it. My parents were in a rock cover band back in the 70’s. It’s actually how they met.”

“So your parents were singers?”

“Well my dad sings pretty well, but my mom can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” I admitted with a laugh, “She was a drummer. Although if I’m being honest she wasn’t too great at that either. But they had fun, and they met each other so...” I shrugged, “So, what kind of music do you like? Peggy Lee, Julie London, Doris Day? Classic slow jazz?”

He smiled, “I’m not sure... Since I, uh, defrosted, I’ve been trying my best to catch up on everything I missed. I’ve listened to a lot of different styles of music and so far I seem to like most of them.”

“Even hip hop?” I asked with a mischievous grin.

“Some I do, some I don’t. Depends on the lyrics.”

“Don’t like the bad language?”

“That doesn’t really bother me as much. I just don’t like the ones that are... disrespectful of women.”

“Aww! That’s very gentlemanly.” I said.

He blushed.

“So, speaking of catching up, have you gotten to watch The Andy Griffith Show yet?”

He shook his head, “Heard the name, never seen any episodes.”

“Petticoat Junction, Beverly Hillbillies, The Dick Van Dyke Show? Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C.?”

He shook his head ‘no’ again.

“Well how about The Burns and Allen show? I Love Lucy? Mission Impossible? Matlock? Perry Mason? The Waltons? Little House on the Prairie? Bonanza?” After he answered no to all of them I gasped in feigned shock, “Someone has been neglecting your pop culture education! Those are classics! We have GOT to start marathoning them. Right away.” Suddenly I wondered if I had overstepped my boundaries, so I quickly tried to correct myself, wide eyed and stammering, “I - I mean if you want to, you don’t have to necessarily I just wanted to offer in case you did, and it’s fine if you don’t-”

“Y/N,” He interjected calmly, “I would love to watch old shows with you.”

I grinned happily and looked down at the counter. 

Here’s the thing about cooking pie (or any good food for that manner) at the Avengers’ facility - it brings them to the kitchen from everywhere. Apparently the smell of baking pie wafting through the air was farther-reaching than I’d anticipated, because we heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. I jumped back and straightened up, suddenly very aware of how close Steve and I had been. He turned away from the bar, hand on his hip and eyes on the ground.

Sam was standing in the doorway, eyes a little sleepy and dressed in a sweatshirt and house-pants.

“Hi Sam!” I said.

“Thought you were gonna get some shut-eye.” Steve said.

“Not when I can smell that good cooking. What’s in the oven Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Pecan pie,” I said proudly.

“I hadn’t had pecan pie since the last Thanksgiving at my mom’s,” Sam said, “Sounds like it’s worth staying up for.”

“Alright! I’m sure there’s enough. I made two.” I said.

“Sounds great,” Sam said.

A few minutes later Wanda trailed in, then Vision, then to my surprise, Natasha.

“Nat!” Steve said, walking over to give her a quick hug, “How was your trip?”

“It was great. Clint’s so happy about the baby that he finally gave up on his projects for a little while. What’s in the oven?”

“Pecan pie,” Sam said, “Y/N’s fixing us a little taste of the south.”

“Smells good,” Natasha said, sitting down at the bar.

Just then the oven dinged so I went to check on the pies. They were perfect, much to my relief. After that there was a frenzy of talking, serving pie and ice cream, and eating. There was such a nice familial atmosphere, like I hadn’t felt in years. For over an hour we all sat there, laughing and talking. Vision didn’t eat, and he didn’t say much either, but Wanda still watched him as if he was the most important person in the whole room. Natasha turned out to be a very interesting and friendly person, and although it was a little unsettling to see an assasin who could your neck telling stories and joking around, I found myself really enjoying her company. 

Gradually everyone finished their food and said goodnight, until it was only Wanda and I left cleaning up the last of the mess. Steve offered to help, but he’d just gotten back from a mission so I insisted he get some rest. Wanda and I were working in comfortable silence, when I suddenly had an idea.

“You know what? Now that I officially work here we should have a girl’s night.”

“Girl’s night? You mean like - me, you, and Natasha Romanoff all go out drinking together?” Wanda asked skeptically.

“Well I was thinking of something more along the lines of dinner and a movie or one of those escape-the-room thingys, but yeah, that’s what I meant.”

She laughed, “I’ll make you a deal. You be the one to ask Natasha, and if she says yes, I’ll go with you.”

“Yay! Help me plan it too?” I coaxed.

“As long as we don’t go to a sappy rom-com, sure.”

“Oh definitely not. We’ll come up with something cool.”

Wanda shook her head and laughed softly.

“What?” I asked.

“You.” She said, “Friends, outings, lunch appointments, home cooked desserts...”

“I just want to see you guys happier. Is it working?”

“I guess so. I don’t think I would have agreed to this a month ago.”

“Good,” I said, “To tell the truth I’ve been... Well I haven’t had friends in a very long time. This is just me trying to give back. Steve saved my life. This job saved me from having to go back home a penniless disgrace. And you? You’re the first person who’s gotten me to open up in a long time.”

“You’re a very special person Y/N. Did you know that?” Wanda asked, “I am very glad Steve found you that night.”

I didn’t really know what to say so I just wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a quick hug.

“Well I had better get some rest,” Wanda said, “Steve will want to train us hard tomorrow. Goodnight Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

I smiled, “Goodnight Wanda Maximoff.”


	14. Making Friends and Influencing Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it’s pretty late, but at least I updated on Sunday this week, as promised. Enjoy! -Ali

Wanda wasn’t kidding when she said Steve would want to train hard the next day.

I got up early, as usual, and walked down to the eating area only to find that everyone else was up already. They were eating around the table in the meeting room, listening to Steve who was presumably giving them a list of training exercises. I kept to myself and waited until they had finished, and headed to the training area, mumbling a quick “good morning” to each Avenger as they came to put their dishes away. Steve was the last to come, and he cleaned out the coffee maker as well, watching in fascination as the coffee grounds disappeared down the garbage disposal with a whirr.

“You know these things were illegal in New York City when I was growing up?” He said with a bashful smile, as if he was almost ashamed to admit how cool he found them.

“Seriously?” I asked, “I didn’t even know they had been invented back them.

“Yeah dispose-all’s have been around since... late 30’s I think. They were outlawed in New York City because people thought that they would ruin the sewers. They were legal in Brooklyn but we couldn’t afford one.”

“Well that’s interesting. Kinda odd but kinda interesting at the same time.” I said with a short laugh, “Say I’ve been meaning to ask you, may I watch training today? I’d like to learn more about all of your fighting styles and powers. And I’d like to know what an Avengers training session looks like in case I’m ever asked about that.”

“Sure, you’re welcome to watch us any time. No need to even ask. And you can use the shooting range or the workout equipment any time we aren’t training. I want you to feel completely at home here.”

I grinned, desperately trying to keep from fangirling. Last time I’d been in a training session it was basically a light workout. This? This would be intense, structured battle training. I could hardly wait.

I was finished eating so I walked to the training room with Steve. When we arrived, Sam and Natasha were already punching heavy bags, Wanda was levitating weights, and Vision wasn’t there.

“Avengers!” Steve called. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.

“Natasha, Sam, sparring. Go a few rounds, then Nat, you need to start with weapons and Sam, start getting used to that drone that came in from Stark Tech yesterday. Wanda, I need you to start levitating the 200 lb. weight set at that mat stack. And make sure you set them down gently.” As he spoke he was wrapping his hands and putting on boxing gloves, and as soon as he finished, he walked over to a garish red, white, and blue punching bag and began punching it. I was pretty sure the bag was a gift from Mr. Stark, due to the color scheme and the fact that it reacted to his superhuman punches the way a bag would to a normal person’s punches.

I wasn’t completely aware of everything that was going on, but I was definitely impressed. I took notes in a little notebook and tried hard to remember that I was there for work, not fun.

Watching the Black Widow in action was incredible. She took Sam down over and over again, almost effortlessly. I would have felt sorry for him, but I noticed that each time she beat him, he was getting a little bit better, so although she won every round Sam was learning. Also Natasha was clearly not actually hurting him. 

At first Wanda struggled with the task Steve had given her. She either floated the weights too slowly, or sent them flying to the mat stack with entirely too much force. Eventually she mastered it - they flew towards the mats quickly, but were set down so gently that the plates on each end of the bar barely rattled. At that point Steve decided she was ready for step 2.

I noticed there was a shelf installed high on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before. Steve started at the far end of the room, and ran towards Wanda. As he passed her, she used her powers to lift him up in the air. He landed squarely on the shelf. The landing was a little rough, but she’d gotten him to the right spot. We all cheered, but after watching for a few minutes the rest of the team got back to work.

Sam was completely thrilled with his new drone, “Hey Y/N, what should I call it?”

I laughed, “You’re giving it a name?”

“Hell yeah I am, look how cute he is!”

“He?” I asked. I couldn’t help but smile at the huge grin on his face. “Ok... Maybe... Bandit? Shayera? Katar? Phoenix? Nekhbet? Redwing?”

“Redwing...” He said, looking at the red patterns on the drone. “I like it Y/N! Redwing. Thanks!”

“Happy to help!” I said, “Wanna show me how he works?”

I watched them train for a few hours, filling my notebook with notes and trying hard to spread my focus instead of just enjoying how Steve looked when he was a little sweaty from working out and his clothes clung to him...

“Lunch?” Wanda asked.

I snapped to attention, eyes wide and face red, hoping she hadn’t read my mind at that particular moment. “Of course!” I said, “Say, have you ever had a cheeseburger and fries and a milkshake?”

“Can’t say that I have,” she answered.

“Want to?” I asked, “You deserve to get out some. You’ve been training hard all day.”

She looked at Steve and then back at me with a wry smile, “Ask the boss. He’s been driving us pretty hard.” She lowered her voice and added, “He’s worried about something. He won’t tell me, and I don’t want to read his mind without permission, but maybe he’ll talk to you.”

I nodded sincerely, “I’ll talk to him.” I said softly, “After lunch,” I added in a brighter tone.

“Good luck.” Wanda said.

I set my notebook aside and walked gingerly across the mats and equipment towards where Steve was working out on a salmon ladder. “Hi Steve,” I called from the foot of it, “May I ask you a question?” 

“Sure!” He said, coming down and clapping his hands to clean the chalk off, “How can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if you could give Wanda a little extra time to go to lunch with me,” I said, “I promise we’ll get back before 2:00.”

He raised one eyebrow thoughtfully, “So you’re making friends with Wanda?”

I nodded.

“Good,” He said, “I think you two will be good for each other. Go ahead, you two have fun. Don’t worry about the time. She can have the rest of the day off.”

“Thank you so much!” I said.

“And Y/N?” He called after me.

“Yes?”

“You two have fun,” Steve said with a wink, “That’s an order.”

I grinned and saluted him, “Yes sir, Captain.”


	15. Who the hell is Bucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m getting a bit better about updating! To be completely honest, I had this great chapter written that I was really proud of and then I suddenly realized that the premise was surrounding an event that didn’t happen until 2 years after this story takes place. SMH. Huge writer fail right there. Anyway I also noticed that most of the chapters have been kinda angsty lately so I will try to write a purely fluffy funny chapter next week. As always, please leave me reviews, even if they’re critical. I love hearing from y’all. -Ali

Although Steve had let Wanda off to have lunch with me, he had definitely not changed his mind about training hard. I wanted to follow through with my promise to Wanda, but I just couldn’t find a good opportunity. It seemed that every time I saw Steve he was either working, or talking to someone, or on the way to something. He barely ate, I doubted he was sleeping, and his smile seemed more and more forced every time I saw it. He was driving himself much too hard, and he was driving the team too. He was more considerate of their needs than his own - at least they still got lunch and 8 hours of sleep - but the rest of their time was spent training. 

By Thursday I decided it was time to say something. I headed to the training area during the team’s lunch break, where I found Steve, pounding his special heavy bag. He didn’t even notice that I had walked into the room, he just kept punching the bag, as if it had somehow been transformed into the living manifestation of whatever troubles he was facing. His blows became harder, quicker, until finally with a shout of rage he punched the bag so hard that it swung away from him and then back again. He stopped it just before it hit him and laid his forehead against it, chest and shoulders heaving.

“Steve?” I asked quietly, “You ok?”

He snapped his chin up and squared his shoulders. Before he even turned his head I knew he was trying to plaster on a smile, and when I caught his eyes I saw tears in them.

“Don’t answer that. And don’t try to act like you’re ok because I know you aren’t,” I sighed, “Let me see,” I said, extending my hand.

He looked at me quizzically.

“Your hands,” I explained, “I know you’re a superhero and everything but you really should use gloves.”

He didn’t say anything as I held his hands in mine. The tape on his hands was sweaty and bloody, fraying around his scraped knuckles. I sighed again as I lead him over to the first aid kit. I was surprised he let me, and even more surprised that I had the courage to hold his hands when just speaking to him put butterflies in my stomach, but I just focused on cleaning him up.

“So,” I said as I gently peeled the tape off his hands, “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, “I just got a little carried away.”

“Don’t lie to me Steve, I’m very good at reading people and I don’t like being lied to. You’ve been off since you got back last Saturday.” I looked into his eyes and asked, “The mission, it was personal wasn’t it?”

He looked thoughtfully at me for a few moments before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, “I mean I legally can’t tell anyone about it anyway, and it might take your mind off of how badly this antiseptic wipe is going to sting.”

He half-smiled and took a deep breath before beginning hesitantly, “I uh... When I was a kid my best friend was a guy named Bucky Barnes. He was... he was like a brother to me. I was a punk kid who was always getting in fights with guys twice my size and he saved my ass more times than I can count. We fought together in the war and... There was a mission... We were supposed to go in and get this Hydra scientist off of a train. Bucky... fell off the train, down into this snow filled chasm and I thought he was dead. I mean there’s no way he could have survived. Then last year, when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, I fought a man with a metal arm who was just as strong, just as fast, just as skilled, just as... Just like me. He’s a super soldier. And then I knocked off his mask and it was Bucky. But he didn’t remember who I was, he didn’t even remember who he was. I called his name and he looked like he was hearing it for the first time. He’s known as the Winter Soldier now. He’s been working for the KGB, Hydra, God knows who else. He’s an assassin, he shot Natasha, he almost killed Nick Fury, he beat me to a pulp and then... I fell out of a plane, almost drowned... And he saved my life. Something in him, some part of him, has got to know who he is and if that’s true then just maybe he can be saved.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

He shook his head sadly, “I don’t know. Sam and I have been searching for him for the past year, using files Nat gave us... Nothing. He’s like a ghost. Every damn time I think we’re getting close to finding him we hit another dead end. And I mean I knew it was going to be hard but... This last time I really thought it was going to be the one.”

I wrapped the last bit of the bandage around his hand and secured it as I asked softly, “What are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know what to do. I mean we’ve still got leads we can track down but what if it’s just more of the same? What if he doesn’t want to be found?”

“Bucky - he’s the friend you told me about the day you offered me a job, right? The one who never gave up on you?”

He nodded.

“Then you can’t give up on him. But you can’t keep driving yourself like this either. You can’t blame yourself for... whatever. You can’t keep pushing your team this hard. And you can’t punch sandbags until your knuckles bleed. I know you have to be strong for the team. I know you’re... a leader and you’re supposed to be older and wiser or whatever but... you can’t keep holding everything in. You don’t ever have to fake it with me ok? I’m a mess so I promise I won’t judge you. If you’re angry or sad or just tired... Be honest with me. I don’t expect picture perfect Captain America so don’t try to be him ok? Just be Steve Rogers, human being. I kinda like that guy.”

He nodded and laughed softly, “I think I can do that.”

“Good.” I said, “Today’s Thursday. You said Thursday was movie night, right?”

He nodded.

“Then let’s watch a movie. The team could use a break and so could you. And I’ve never seen a movie in a private screening room before but it sounds really cool. So, what do you say?”

“Ok. Let’s do it. I’ll call the team. You wanna make some popcorn?”

I grinned, “Better-than-theater popcorn coming right up.”

He helped me to me feet and we headed out the door. “See you at the movies!” I called back brightly.

“See you at the movies, Y/N,” he echoed as I walked away.


	16. ———

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I am so sorry that I didn't get a chance to update yesterday. I had a friend visit from out of town, I saw Infinity War twice, I unexpectedly had to work this weekend and next weekend in addition to my normal hours during the week, and I'm trying very hard to finish up the last of my schoolwork for the year. All of that resulted in me not being able to write anything at all.
> 
> Because of the events of Infinity War I have to rewrite some of the future chapters I've written and I need some time to decide what direction I want to take with this fic; whether to keep it as canon compliant as possible or make it a fix-it fic. Even though the timeframe of this fic is approximately 3 years before the timeframe of Infinity War, I am trying to properly foreshadow and such, so I need to make a decision on that front soon. Also my dear best friend has informed me that my writing just isn't as good when I write at 3:00 A.M., and I have to say I agree.
> 
> I said all of that to explain the reasons why I have decided to put this fanfic on a very short hiatus. I will post the next chapter on Sunday the 13th of May. In the meantime if anyone would like to talk about Infinity War, or if you have any requests for future chapters of this fic, or any questions, feel free to DM me here, on Fanfiction.net, or on my tumblr, I-Wish-I-Had-Nice-Cheekbones.
> 
> Thank you all so much for being patient with me and I hope you all have a wonderful week.

..........


	17. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm baaaack! (Imagine me saying that as I rise up in a cloud of fire and smoke like Mushu...) I'm sorry this is a week late... I had some pretty serious family drama and had to do some traveling and working, but I finally got a chapter written. I've also decided what direction I want to take with this fic. It will stay canon compliant up to the events of Infinity War and shortly afterwards. I'm not sure what I'll do after Avengers 4 but y'all may be tired of me by then so I'm not going to worry about it right now. As always please leave me feedback! I love hearing from y'all and I am always open to suggestions. - Ali

In 2015, the Ice Bucket Challenge had a short revival, and I was nominated by a friend from back home. I decided to involve the Avengers because I hoped with their help, it could become an annual fundraiser. Besides, it would give them some much needed good publicity. So the first sunny day we had, I donned a sports bra, an old t-shirt and blue jeans, and went outside with my cell phone, a large bucket full of ice water, and a towel. I recruited Wanda to help me set up the camera and to dump the bucket on my head. I pressed the button to record, and smiled cheerily at the camera.

"Hi everyone! I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N and I am the Public Relations Specialist for the Avengers. I have been nominated for the ice bucket challenge by Anna Marie LeBeau. Please keep in mind that although this challenge has been a source of entertainment it is first and foremost to raise awareness for ALS. So please go to , learn all you can about it, and consider making a donation!" Then I turned to Wanda, "Alright I'm ready!"

She dumped the bucket on my head and I gasped in shock at the cold. I shook the water from my hair and said, "I nominate Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Wanda Maximoff. You guys have 24 hours. Bye!"

I tapped the button to stop recording and Wanda handed me the towel. "I was not prepared for how cold that was!" I said with a shivery laugh.

"And now that you nominated me I have to do it too?" She asked in feigned annoyance.

I grinned, "Sorry."

"No, you aren't," she said with a little smirk.

I helped Wanda film her video right after mine, and she uploaded it within a few hours. Afterwards we went inside for hot cocoa and blankets.

Tony's video was up by the next morning, featuring him sitting in a pool and Pepper dousing him with ice water.

Steve's video however, was the eventful one. We were all relaxing in and around the lap pool before he filmed it. He nominated Sam, Natasha, and Sharon Carter. After he finished recording and I made sure he got it uploaded properly, I tried to walk back to my chair. Being a bit of a klutz, I tripped over a storage bin and knocked it on its side. I had assumed it contained towels or pool cleaning equipment, but my surprise, several water guns toppled out.

"What are these doing here?" I asked, picking them up. They didn't look like average water guns. These had more storage capacity, a darker color scheme, and a Stark Tech logo. "So a multi-billion dollar tech company is making water guns?" I asked incredulously.

"Hey Y/N let me see one of those things," Sam said. I tossed him one and continued to look at the one I was holding. I was so focused on trying to figure out how it worked that I didn't notice Sam loading his gun until a stream of water hit me in the face.

"Eek!" I sat up straight and blinked my eyes, shaking my head like a wet dog in an attempt to get rid of the water.

"Damn, this thing is awesome!" Sam said with a laugh.

Within minutes it had escalated to an all out water gun battle involving almost the entire team, while Vision sat reading a book in a chaise lounge with an air of serenity that contrasted sharply with the chaos around him.

I still couldn't quite figure out why Tony had decided to make high tech water guns, but I was glad he did. They were high powered, high capacity, easy to aim, easy to fire, and easy to reload. The design made them look less like a child's toy and more like a sci-fi weapon, but using them still made me feel younger and happier than I had in years.

"Agh!" Sam shrieked, as I shot him in the back of the neck.

I laughed and ran away from him as he wiped the water out of his eyes and turned around to retaliate.

A stream of water hit me unexpectedly in my side, and I squeaked in surprise as I turned to see Natasha laughing from a perfectly barricaded spot and shooting Steve in the face whenever he popped out from behind an inflatable raft he was holding like a shield. I'd gotten caught in the crossfire, and they were both bombarding me with a steady stream of cold water. By that time Sam had caught up and I was outnumbered. I wasn't sure who to shoot and I couldn't aim well enough to actually hit them. Suddenly Steve's bucket of water, now refilled with fresh water from the pool, came floating by surrounded in red light, and flipped upside down over Natasha's head, soaking her completely. Sam, Steve and I froze, looking from Natasha to Wanda and wondering how the Black Widow would react.

After a few seconds of open mouthed shock she began laughing, and she called to Wanda in Russian, "Otlichnyy vystrel! Pochemu by nam ne ob"yedinit'sya protiv mal'chikov?" (Nice shot! Why don't we team up against the boys?)

Wanda grinned wickedly and replied, "Da!" (Yes!)

I furrowed my brow in confusion for a microsecond as I stared at the two ladies, but as soon as Natasha vaulted over the furniture and began firing at Sam and Steve with both her water guns, I realized what was going on. They were no match for Wanda and Natasha together, and pretty soon they were both dripping wet.

I stepped back a bit and watched them; a soldier from another century, a veteran of a war too many people have forgotten, a ex-assassin and spy, and a girl with magic who'd endured terrible tragedy, having a water gun fight while a sentient Android watched calmly from his chair. They were superheroes, people with extraordinary abilities who'd fought aliens and gods and evil robots, and here they were, laughing and playing and getting soaking wet like any other group of friends. I wished I could freeze time, keep them in that moment, where they were just happy and safe and a little goofy and so wonderfully normal. But I couldn't stop time, and far too soon this afternoon would be over, and they would have to go back to their battles and their struggles and the ghosts from their pasts...

After that thought I snapped back into reality, partly because I didn't want to think about anything heavy on that gloriously sunny afternoon, and partly because someone pushed me into the pool.


	18. Girls’ Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, here I am again, two days late and asking for forgiveness... *hangs head* Work is keeping me incredibly busy. This is a chapter I've been really looking forward to, but like my poor OFC I have the social skills of a potato, and unlike her I have never been on a girls' night in my life, so I kept struggling with writing it. I scoured the internet for ideas but nothing really felt right until I was listening to a certain soundtrack on my way home from work and it just clicked. I DID HOWEVER INCLUDE A SCENE THAT DEPICTS A FOILED SEXUAL ASSAULT, A PANIC ATTACK, AND HINTS AT A PREVIOUS ASSAULT. I hated to put it in there but I promise I have my reasons and I never would have done it if it wasn't relevant to the long term plot. There will be plenty of love and recovery in the next few chapters too so I'm not completely heartless.
> 
> Yesterday was my best friend, editor, critic, and writing-prompt-giver's birthday, so shoutout to her because without her encouraging me to push through the nerves and post this fic I don't think I ever would have.
> 
> As always thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing. It means the world to me. I never dreamed my writing would get the response it has and you guys always put the biggest smile on my face. Hope you enjoy! -Ali

TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE READ THE NOTES BEFORE YOU READ THE CHAPTER!

 

There was something I'd been putting off for a long time. Girls' night. It wasn't that I didn't want to go out with Wanda and Natasha. I wanted to very much. So much that I ended up procrastinating every time I got the chance to actually plan it because I was just so terrified I'd mess it up. I liked these women, a lot. They were both so strong and intelligent and beautiful and kind, and I was starting to get a little intimidated. The truth was, I wanted to get it perfect, but I hadn't had a group of friends in a while, and New York was so much different from back home, that I didn't know where to begin. My confidence had a tendency to come in waves, so I tried to never make commitments or plans at the height of the waves, but I had broken that habit when I suggested this to Wanda. I thought she had forgotten about it until she mentioned it during lunch one day.

"So when are we going to start planning girls' night?"

I froze for a fraction of a second. I'd never lied to Wanda and I wasn't going to start now, so I confessed, "I don't know. I want to go but I honestly don't have any good ideas and I kinda wish I'd never suggested it in the first place. I tried to research the best spots in New York for girls' night, but there were just too many and I got overwhelmed. Small town girl y'know?

Wanda smiled, "I promised to help you remember?"

I said with a sigh, "I'm just not good at that."

"Getting help?"

"Getting help, having friends, living in a big city, having such an important job... You name it."

"Well it sounds like you need a girls' night now more than ever." She said with a light laugh, "Have you talked to Natasha about it?"

"My eyes must have widened for a fraction of a second because Wanda stared curiously at me as I responded, "No... not yet... I thought I'd wait till everything was planned."

She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, the slightest smirk playing on her lips, "Wait, are you scared of Natasha?"

I pouted. This wasn't a question I wanted to answer, "Maybe a little?"

Wanda laughed again, "Why Y/N?"

"I don't know! She's just really smart and badass and pretty and she could probably kill a grown man with her pinky finger."

Wanda had been training with Natasha more, learning espionage tricks, getting rid of her accent, learning more about being an Avenger. The two ladies had clearly formed a connection after the water gun incident, and I couldn't help but feel a little... left out. They had so much more in common, they were both heroes with incredible abilities and I wasn't jealous... I just wondered what a washed up journalist turned halfway decent PR girl was doing trying to be friends with them. I was starting to wonder if maybe I should focus more on work and kerp things strictly professional...

Wanda stood up from the table and pushed her chair back in as she stated emphatically, "Alright that's it. We're going to talk to her. Now."

"Now?"

"You don't have to plan a perfect night," Wanda said, "That isn't the point. The point is for us to get to know each other better right?"

I nodded.

"So lets go talk to her!"

We found Natasha in the training room, practicing some basic tumbling skills. Any other day I might have complimented her form and talked to her about gymnastics, but now wasn't the time. Wanda gave me a gentle shove and I walked up to her.

"Natasha?" I asked.

"Hi girls, what are you two up to?"

"Well I was... we were... hoping we could all three go do something together this weekend? Go out on like a girls night out or something?" I managed.

"What did you have in mind?" Natasha asked.

"Well to be honest I don't know. I wanted to plan something perfect but I'm hopelessly out of my depth in New York and I decided to ask for help and advice from the two of you. I mean if you're interested. If you don't want to go that's okay too, I mean I want you to go but if you don't want to... Not that you wouldn't want to I'm just trying not to be pushy or anything and..." I realized I was rambling and I trailed off with a nervous smile.

"I could get us Hamilton tickets." Natasha offered.

"Wait what? For this weekend?" I said in astonishment.

She shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "I know a guy."

I stared blankly at her for a few seconds before regaining my composure and saying, "That's incredible! How much will it cost?"

"I meant I could get them for free." Natasha explained, as casually as if she were talking about picking up hamburgers at McDonalds.

"Wow," Wanda said.

"Damn, Natasha, who do you know?" I asked.

She smirked and said, "I may have saved Lin-Manuel Miranda's life... There was a white supremacist psycho, got too drunk and decided to try to kill the playwright who cast men of color as the founding fathers. I was just in the right place at the right time. Lin promised me seats at the show anytime I wanted them."

So it was settled. That weekend I would be going to my first Broadway show. And it was Hamilton. For free!

Saturday evening we gathered around in the conference room, dressed up nicer than everyday, but not so nice that we'd stand out. Natasha had extensive knowledge of how to dress and behave in every social setting.

"Wow!" Sam said as he and Steve strode into the room, "You ladies look incredible."

"He's right," Steve added with a smile, "The Avengers will be well-represented tonight."

Wanda and I smiled and blushed.

"Thanks Rogers, Sam," Natasha said, "Well girls we'd better get going. Wouldn't want to be late."

"You ladies have a good time!" Steve said.

"Yeah, just don't do anything Cap wouldn't do," Sam teased.

"Hell no Sam, we want to have fun," Natasha added with a grin, "That's why we're leaving Grandpa at home with you."

Steve rolled his eyes and fought back a smile, "C'mon guys..."

We all laughed and the three of us headed out while Sam and Steve continued their playful banter.

The show was absolutely incredible. I felt like an overexcited tourist, but I honestly didn't care. Girls' night was going better than I'd imagined. After the show we met Mr. Miranda himself to thank him for the tickets and congratulate him on the success of the show, and even got a picture with him for our social media accounts. Next we headed to a nearby restaurant known for its authentic Italian pizza. I felt like I needed a little fresh air after all of the excitement of the evening, so I volunteered to pull the car around after we'd finished eating. As I walked out the door I heard a low whistle.

"Hello gorgeous." Someone said.

I turned to see a man watching me. He was tall, unusually tall, with sandy blond hair, tanned skin, and a grin that was just a little too catlike, with just a few too many glistening white teeth. He was attractive, sure, but something about him felt off.

"Were you talking to me?" I asked.

"You see anyone else out here sweetheart?"

"Thanks I guess," I said, with ice in my voice. My back was rigid and I stepped towards the restaurant's doors, looking for Wanda and Natasha, and hoping he would see my body language and take the hint.

"Just telling you the truth doll. What do you say me and you go someplace quiet where we can... talk?"

"I'm not interested." I replied quickly.

He laughed as if he didn't believe what I said, "Aw c'mon baby don't be like that. You know you want this."

"I really don't," I said, growing more offended and more threatened by the moment, "Besides we're having a girl's night so it's really a bad time."

"Well at least give me your number," he said, pulling out his phone, "For later."

"Alright," I said, "I'll even give you some letters so you can remember it better alright? You ready? 6-4-6 H-E-L-L N-O."

With that his face grew red and he grabbed my arm and slammed me against the wall, attracting the attention of the diners inside, "Now you listen here you stuck up little bitch," he shouted, so close to my face that I could smell the alcohol on his breath, "I asked nicely. I complimented you. I tried to be patient with you, but you won't even give me a chance! What's wrong? Think you're too good for me? Huh? Answer me!"

I could have broken away. I could have used my self defense training from college. I could have snapped his arm. I could have kicked him in the groin or kneed him in the stomach hard enough to make him let go of my arm. But I didn't. I froze. Because all at once I was 19 again, being held against a different wall, by a different man, on a different dark night. My whole body started trembling and I bit my lip and shut my eyes, fighting back tears. Just like last time. It was happening all over again. My heart rate increased and I felt bile rising in my throat. My stomach felt like I was riding on a roller coaster and I was struggling to breathe. The pain like drowning, my lungs stinging from lack of oxygen, my legs as weak as jello, the world spinning in front of me... I was having a panic attack. Again. It had been so long and I was so proud of my long record of health. And now this one asshole had ruined it. I tried to collect my thoughts and fight back but the shouting words blurred in my ears and all I could hear was the rushing of my own blood and the pounding of my own heartbeat. Suddenly I heard a different sound. A different voice, one that calmed me and brought me to my senses, if only for a moment.

"Hey!" Natasha called, "Let her go right now and I'll only break your arm."

The man turned around and laughed at her. She was 5 foot 4 inches of pure concentrated rage. He was about a foot taller and ripped, so he didn't take her seriously. He should have. She gave him a fraction of a second to let me go, and then at lightening speed she turned him around and slammed him into the wall, breaking his arm, as promised, and possibly quite a few of the bones in his face as well. He was whining loudly, but I heard only a distant echo. My vision was blurring and darkening and I would have fallen had Wanda not used her powers to stabilize me. Red light, now familiar and comforting instead of eerie, flickered around me until Wanda was close enough to catch me in her arms and set me down gently. With an elegant flutter of her fingers, she projected a vision into my mind.

I was in a large clearing, warm and sunny, with birds chirping in the trees and frogs croaking under rocks by a winding brook. I could feel the heat on my skin and the grass beneath my... very small bare feet. I suddenly realized that it wasn't just a vision or a simulation; it was a memory. A memory of home. I could see the picnic blanket in the distance, and I reached up to find a flower crown in my hair. My heart rate fell slowly back to normal and I took deeper breaths, my legs once again felt strong enough to support me. The memory faded away into Wanda and Natasha's concerned faces.

"You alright Y/L/N?" Natasha asked.

"Better now," I said softly.

"I'm sorry for doing that without your permission." Wanda said, "I didn't read your mind any more than was necessary, I just picked the first comforting memory I could find. I thought you were going to black out-"

"Don't apologize Wanda, it's ok. You really helped me a lot. I had no idea you could do that."

Natasha asked, "You think you can walk?"

"Sure," I said, standing up, "How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes," Natasha said, "I turned the guy over to one of the cooks inside and some of the customers had already called the police. He'll stay put until they get here. Apparently an angry chef with a kitchen knife is a powerful motivator. I may have broken his larynx first though," she said with a cold grin, "He won't be using that dirty mouth of his anytime soon."

"I'm so sorry y'all," I said, "I really ruined girls night huh?"

Wanda shook her head, "No, Y/N you have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe."

Natasha nodded in agreement, "Now let's get you back home."


	19. Old Scars and Reopened Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS
> 
> This is a continuation of the storyline from Girl's Night Out, so the same warnings for that chapter apply to this one. I tried to write this scene as briefly and tastefully as possible while still giving a glimpse into the character's backstory, but there is still reference to rape, underage drinking, victim blaming, depression, suicide, panic attacks, and self harm. If any of those are triggers for you then please skip this entire chapter. Once again, I promise that this is plot relevant and necessary. I don't take any of it lightly.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, following, favoriting and commenting! As always if you have any requests, suggestions, complaints, or just want to chat, feel free to leave me a comment or visit me at tumblr where my url is I-Wish-I-Had-Nice-Cheekbones -Ali

All that night I tossed and turned, haunted by nightmares, angry with myself for needing help, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't been rescued. This wasn't the first time my panic attacks had put me in a vulnerable position, but I was determined that it would be the last. Unfortunately I couldn't heal myself with sheer willpower.

A knock on my door broke into my self-torturing thoughts. I decided that I was just too emotionally drained to care about my appearance so went to answer it, hair tousled, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, wearing my softest (and unfortunately ugliest) pajamas. Natasha stood at the door, concern clear in her eyes.

"You ok Y/L/N?"

I nodded unconvincingly.

"We're all a little worried about you. Rogers wanted to check on you but I told him it's not the best time."

"I'll be fine," I said, "I just need a little time. Thanks for checking on me."

Natasha stepped forward, making it clear she had no intention of leaving, or ending the conversation, "Y/L/N, you can't stay in here all day."

"It's Sunday, there's no media crisis, I think the Avengers can survive without a PR girl for one day."

"That's not what I meant," She said, in a softer tone, "Something tells me there's more to what's going on with you right now than just what happened last night. Am I wrong?"

I looked at the floor and swallowed hard.

"Am I wrong, Y/N?"

"No," I whispered.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Well you need to," She said firmly, "Look Y/N, you work with the Avengers now. This probably isn't going to be the last time someone attacks you or you're in a high pressure situation. In a perfect world we would keep you safe and you'd never have to worry about anything other than PR, but this world is anything but perfect, even for normal people. And we're not normal people. You're good with a gun, and that's great, but last night you didn't have one. You need to know how to defend yourself with no gun, no knife, no plan, no backup. I can help you but you've got to be honest with me."

I opened the door and burst into tears. Natasha stride over to the couch and sat down. I sat down beside her, shoulders slumped and body shaking with the tears I'd been holding back all night. I wiped my sweating palms on my pants and tried desperately to control my breathing. Natasha didn't touch me, barely even moved, but she spoke calmly to me and somehow I felt enveloped in a cloud of comfort and warmth, "Breathe Y/N breathe. Deep breath in... Deep breath out... There you go. Now, talk to me. Tell me what's going through your head right now."

"I'm..." I combed through the myriad of thoughts swirling through my head, forcing my brain to slow down. Just pick one thing. I thought, What's upsetting you right now? Why are you crying? "I feel like a failure," I confessed, "Again."

"Why?"

"I thought I could do this but I can't. If I can't deal with one drunk jerk how am I going to be able to handle the big stuff this job throws my way? Steve said when he hired be it was because I was strong and I..."

"Calm down. Don't cry, finish your sentence."

"I'm not capable."

"That's not exactly true," Natasha said, "Moving way out here from a small town, going after that crooked landlord in Hell's Kitchen, staying calm through that car wreck, pulling a gun on Captain America..."

I smiled slightly at that.

"My point is this - what you went through last night was traumatic, and you froze. It doesn't mean you aren't capable of doing this job. But there's something more going on in your head that made last night more difficult than it should have been," She prodded gently.

I chewed the inside of my lip and looked away before answering softly, "You've read my police file. You already know. You all know..." I buried my head in my hands.

"I read a file. Words on paper, black and white facts. I need to hear it from you."

I took a deep breath and wiped my face with the back of my hand, staring at a random spot on the wall to avoid making eye contact. "I was 19. In college. I was stupid, naive, just trying to be normal for a change, I don't know. Living with my parents was like living in a prison and once I got out I just... Made a lot of bad decisions. And as a result of those decisions I would up a little tipsy at a frat party trying to say no to a guy who wouldn't take no for an answer. I stormed out and tried to walk back to my room... alone... No one had ever told me how stupid that was. Before I knew what was happening he grabbed me from behind and slammed me against a wall and..." I shuddered and squeezed my eyes shut to block out the memories, "After that I just spiraled. I tried to report him but I was just the drunk slut who seduced the star athlete and decided to ruin his life afterwards. Police didn't care because I was drunk and dressed like I was 'asking for it.' School didn't care because he had a shot at the pros. My friends avoided me. My family blamed me. Between the abuse from my parents and my gymnastics coaches I'd been fighting depression since I was a teenager. After... that... I just succumbed. Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, really unhealthy coping mechanisms... I finally tried to end it all and failed. I woke up in a hospital room, all alone. And right then and there I swore to God I wasn't going to die, alone, by my my own hand. I wasn't going to go out like that. So I got in therapy. I took self-defense classes. Bought a gun. Learned to shoot, wouldn't go anywhere that I couldn't take it with me. But I never could feel safe. No matter what I did I couldn't wash the feel of his hands off my skin. So I left college. Moved back home, enrolled in a community college. I started keeping a journal, writing short stories, poems, songs, political commentaries, started a blog. I got interested in investigative journalism and eventually turned it into my career. I got a job at a paper back home and thought I could just go on with my life, but everyone still saw me as damaged. When that paper contacted me and offered me a job I just packed up everything and moved to New York. I thought I could... Bury my past. Leave it in the south. Then last night when that guy grabbed my arm and threw me against the wall it all just came rushing back and I felt... I just felt young and helpless and so freaking terrified. And I knew y'all were just around the corner and I just... I was still so afraid. It paralyzed me. And I know that's not the reaction someone who works for the Avengers should have in that situation but... I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

"Thank you," Natasha said softly.

"What for?"

"For telling me the truth. For telling me everything. You're not the only one with a past they'd rather forget. I know it was painful and I know it took a lot of courage. Now, I can train you."

"Train me? Natasha, I appreciate your offer but I've already had self defense training. It didn't help."

She shook her head, "You were taught by some southern self-defense instructor. I was taught by the KGB. And not just anyone in the KGB, the best of the best. I can teach you things your self-defense instructors never dreamed of. More than just moves and holds and techniques. I can show you how to never feel vulnerable again. I just need you to trust me and work hard. Deal?"

In that moment I realized that I did trust Natasha. She was still a little intimidating but somewhere between girls' night and that moment something had changed, and I wasn't afraid of her anymore. All I wanted was to say yes and learn everything she had to teach me.

"Deal," I said firmly.

Natasha pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back comfortingly, "Alright. We'll start tomorrow. There are some people outside who are pretty worried about you though. Get a shower, get cleaned up and come out when you're ready, ok? We all care about you and we want to help you," she said, rising to leave, "You've just got to let us."

"I will," I promised, and for the first time I started to feel at home. This wasn't just some stop on the way to something better, this was where I belonged, and these people, these incredibly remarkable people, were my family. And despite my twisted past and my flaws and my insecurities, for just a few moments I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.


	20. Heroes

I followed Natasha’s advice. I took a hot shower, put on some clean clothes, brushed my hair and teeth, made up my bed. Just normal things that had been so easy yesterday seemed like difficult tasks today. At least this time I wouldn’t be alone. I knew my friends would support me through this and keep me from going down a dark path again. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and took a deep breath. “You are beautiful,” I said, “You are strong. You are confident. You are loved. You are worthy of living a good life. You are badass. You are more than capable of handling this job. You are going to be the best damn PR specialist in the world. You are going to learn how to fight like Natasha and if a man ever dares to touch you without permission again you will snap his neck.” I laughed softly and added, “Maybe that’s taking it a little too far. But you won’t need anyone to save you ever again. You are going to become your own hero Y/N.” I breathed in and out one last time, squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and headed out the door.

Steve and Sam kept their distance when I entered the training area, and even though they weren’t making me afraid or uncomfortable I was grateful for the fact that they were trying to put me at ease. They were both looking to Natasha to set the tone of the conversation, so she walked over to me and handed me a pair of boxing gloves, “C’mon Y/L/N, why don’t you show me how they taught you to punch in Mississippi?”

After warming up with punching and kicking the heavy bag, Natasha spent a few hours teaching me basic moves and holds. Finally she agreed that I was ready to start sparring. At first it was actually enjoyable. I didn’t have to worry about hurting her when we sparred, and she beat me easily every time, even though I was sure she was holding back. All of my initial nervousness and fear subsided after being slammed into the mat over and over. But it was eventually replaced by anger as memories I didn’t even know I had repressed resurfaced.

“Aagh!” I shouted as I charged at Natasha. She merely side-stepped and I tripped and fell on my face.

“Breathe!” Natasha said, “Calm down and focus. You can’t win a fight with if you’re to angry to think straight. Use the techniques I showed you.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” I cried in exasperation, “It’s not working!”

“Let’s sit down and take a break,” Natasha said, stepping out of the ring and sitting down cross legged on the floor. She glanced meaningfully at the rest of the team and they left silently. “What are you remembering?” She asked.

I shook my head, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It didn’t help. It won’t help. Talking has never worked for me. Just ask my old therapist,” I said with a sarcastic laugh.

“Did you really expect everything to go away overnight?” Natasha asked, “You talk to me once, we fight a little and you’re magically over all the pain that you’ve been through? Look at Wanda. You have helped her so much. She is not the same hurt, angry, young girl that she was when she first came to us. But it took time. It took you being patient with her, listening to her, being a friend.”

“Well I’m not the only one who’s helped her,” I replied, reddening slightly.

“Yes, but she never would’ve let the rest of us in if you hadn’t broken through to her in the first place. When she first came here she would eat, train, sleep, and not much else. Look at her now. Look at Steve. Look at me, I went out on girl’s night for God’s sake,” she said with a laugh, “You’ve affected all of us, Y/N.”

I looked down at my gloves.

“Look, Y/N, we all have scars. We all have demons from our past, things we don’t want to remember, things that we never want to see the light of day... Red in our ledger. What makes us heroes is not super powers, or training, or amazing technology, or costumes. What makes heroes is a willingness to fight back and to keep going no matter what you’ve been through. I can see the hero in you, Y/N. You’re strong, so very strong. Steve saw that too or he never would’ve offered to hire you. And Tony too, but he’ll probably never admit it.”

I laughed a little at that.

Natasha sobered and looked into my eyes, “How much do you know about my training?” She asked.

“I know you trained in Russia by the KGB,” I said, “I know you were an assassin until S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited you...”

“So you know just about what everyone else knows,” Natasha said.

“I mean I read some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. files back in 2014. I couldn’t really decrypt any of them because my computer skills aren’t great so I only read the ones that The Rising Tide posted online.”

“Well, a file can’t tell you everything,” she said. She rolled up her right sleeve to reveal scarring all around her wrist. “I grew up in a place called the Red Room. You won’t read that anywhere on the Internet. Most people don’t believe it exists. But in this place, 28 other little girls including myself were raised in... absolute hell. I got these scars because they chained us to our beds at night like animals. We were taught to infiltrate, to assassinate, to destabilize entire nations, to do... unspeakably horrible things. They made us into monsters. Now, I’m not comparing back stories or anything but I need you to know that you’re not the only one who’s afraid of their past.”

“So how’d you get past that?” I asked.

She smiled softly, “Well, one day there was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was sent to put me down... and he chose not to. He chose to save my life. He trusted me, recruited me, brought me back to S.H.I.E.L.D., helped me heal.”

“Clint Barton?” I asked.

She nodded, “But for years I still didn’t feel that I could ever escape my past. I thought that I would always just be that assassin, that monster that they turned me into, made for no other purpose than to kill. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. allowed me to be an agent, and Fury had faith in me but... I still felt... Unworthy. Especially when so much of S.H.I.E.L.D. turned out to be Hydra. Then Steve came along, and treated me like a human being for the first time. Sam too. They trusted me, not just as a weapon, or a fellow soldier, but as a friend. And Bruce...” she trailed off and smiled wistfully, then shook her head and continued firmly, “We are all a little broken, a little twisted. None of us have it all figured out. But we choose to keep fighting. To try our best to save as many people as we can and maybe, just maybe, that’ll be enough to save us. Now,” she said, rising to her feet and extending a hand, “Enough of this. You ready for another round?”

I nodded, jaw clenched and steel in my eyes, “Ready.”


End file.
